


A Short Story About Love

by TheLateNightStoryTeller



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: And angst, F/M, Features other characters but not prominently enough to tag them, Future AU, Mentions Will but he's not a big part of the story and not alive for any of it, There will be fluff, and hopefully humor if I did it right ;), including Coulson Bobbi Mack and Daisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLateNightStoryTeller/pseuds/TheLateNightStoryTeller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set several months after the events of Maveth. Although Fitz and Simmons are still shaken by their trips to the alien planet, they are at last enjoying the beginning of their new relationship together. Unfortunately, SHIELD agents don't get very long vacations and a recently transformed inhuman has begun using his gruesome powers to kill. Together with their team they race to stop him before he strikes again but the case brings up old cracks still unrepaired within them... and between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Had Better Be Important

**Author's Note:**

> Super thanks to notapepper for betaing this story! It wouldn't be half as neat and tidy without you :) And you always have great input.
> 
> Thanks to agI03 and Aretsuna for letting me talk their ears off (sounded better than write their eyes out....) about this story, and for helping me work out the details :)

The room was dimly lit, soft light casting shadows on the patchy grey concrete. The walls were bare and there were no windows, no way out but a single, crooked-stepped wooden staircase that led to the heavy door above. Only the centipedes passed freely, crawling in and out of cracks in the walls, and the room smelled of must and mould and death.

In the centre of it, bound to a dingy wooden chair with thick bands of duct tape around his wrists and ankles and a strip of silver sealing his mouth lest he let out a scream, sat a man with wide, terrified eyes.

Another man sat across from him, his serene, relaxed face a sharp contrast, touching his index fingers to his prisoner’s temples.

“From the beginning,” he instructed softly. “I want to see it all- no. No, no, no, don’t skip ahead,” he scolded lightly. His mouth curved up in a small smile while the other man let out a low, frightened whimper. “Show me the first time you met… her.”

The man in the chair stared back at him, cheeks wet with tears that dripped down past his chin. He tried to shake his head but his captor held it firmly in place, fingers anchored to his temples. So instead he spoke with his eyes, a question desperate enough that it must have floated between them for his captor to see.

“Why?” he guessed, mocking now as he leaned forward, his smile widening. “Because you don’t deserve it any more than I do, so why should it only be yours?”

Again, the prisoner tried to shake his head, but he’d grown weaker and this attempt was even more futile than the first. Eventually his struggling faltered and he grew still, watery blood beginning to drip from his nose and his captor sighed, leaning back.

“That’s it. I knew you would share,” he murmured. “Everyone does eventually,”

After that it was silent, the free man fading into bliss while the other’s eyes dimmed until they fell shut, his head still held up between his captor’s hands but his chest having stilled its feeble attempts to raise and fall.

Alone now, the living man opened his eyes, moving his hands away from the dead man’s temples and, as he did, long white tendrils oozed their way out of the punctures they’d left on either side, anchored to his hands like roots coated in blood. He pulled several centimeters of the white, root-like extensions of his fingers out of the dead man’s head and the more he pulled out the more branched it became, spread out and tangled like a net.

When all of it was out, he flexed his hands, sighing contently as it slowly sank back in through the tips of his fingers, leaving them to appear as if they were nothing more than ordinary digits. Then, still smiling to himself, he made his way to the sink and proceeded to wash off the blood.

/-/-/ 

The soft white lights cast shadows on the smooth walls surrounding the dance floor and a loud, upbeat song roared from the speakers over the laughing, chattering crowd of dancers. It smelled of cake and new clothes and the air was buzzing with excited joy.

“What are you doing?” Jemma’s tinkering laughter made Fitz pause mid dance step, turning towards her with only the slightest indignation.

It was difficult for him to focus on being annoyed with her criticism when her sleek blue bridesmaid dress made his heart kick up a gear whenever he caught sight of her, his stomach crinkling at the smoothness of her bare arms and the way her hair had been left loose to frame her sparkling smile. It was more than the dress though, he realized, it was the joy that shone around her that caught his eye. It was the way her grin stretched wide so easily as she’d danced with her father, laughing with glee at one of those jokes only dads seemed to get away with. It was the lightness in her limbs when she lifted her little niece to twirl her around to the music, their giggles overlapping in a thrilled duet.

For Fitz, Jemma was always a wonder, but tonight her happiness, badly needed rain in a drought of sorrow, seemed to fill up the universe and he wondered if he should tell her, how beautiful she looked under the swirling lights.

Maybe after he was finished defending his dancing skills.

“ _I was_ doing the time-warp,” he told her, folding his arms when her eyebrows rose, though his tone was teasing as he nodded his head towards her metronome-like arm movements. “I’m not sure what _you’re_ doing.”

“I’m doing the same thing as everyone else,” she objected, grinning widely and playfully bumping their shoulders together. “Look around Fitz, _you’re_ the one who’s off-beat.”

Fitz swivelled his head to take in the crowd of dancers, Simmons of all ages along with several unfamiliar faces he guessed belonged to the groom’s side. Jemma’s sister and her new husband, grandma and grandpa Simmons, even little Kira Simmons, Jemma’s six year old niece, were all waving their arms in the same completely incorrect pattern of movements as his giggling girlfriend.

“I think our sample population may be a little biased,” he objected.

Jemma rolled her eyes. “If you’d like to continue dancing your way-“

“The _correct_ way,” he added swiftly.

“-I’m sure no one would object,” she continued, clearly amused.

Fitz was searching for a reply, wondering if this was an appropriate time to bring up the Boiler Room dance-off of 2005, when the song ended, flowing easily into the next one thanks to the skills of the DJ. The new song was slower, certainly not dance-off material, and a few of the dancers took the time to sit down at the tables near the buffet, grabbing a snack while they rested their feet.

“Um…” He paused, uncertain for a couple anxious heartbeats until he caught Jemma’s gaze and saw that her features had softened, eyes shining as she watched him, waiting.

It wasn’t expectant, not exactly, but more… wanting. For all the times they’d misread each other, there were still moments when he felt as if they could read others minds and right then he was certain that she was silently asking him to stay. He could see the question floating just behind her eyes.

So he held out his hand, wings fluttering under his throat. “May I have this dance?” he offered softly.

Glowing, she reached out to take it, her smile stretching out between her ears. “You may,” she answered, bright and quiet like fresh snow.

They’d danced together before, but not like this. Even though it had been over a year since they’d agreed to their first date- a reservation that had been held for six months followed by a dinner that was far more about giving his friend a glimmer of hope than anything romantic- the things that had followed that agreement had sliced away at anything that would have led to a moment like this.

However real their feelings for each other were, the past year had been more about keeping each other alive and happy than about exploring them. It hadn’t been until very recently that they’d gone on their first real date, not until only a few months ago that he’d first truly started to _feel_ like Jemma’s boyfriend.

This type of dance, slow and intimate, was uncharted waters for the both of them, so it surprised him how naturally they fell into step with each other, the ease with which Jemma rested her wrists on his shoulders, her face alight as she wordlessly matched his movements. It sent warm waves of love washing over his body, pulling at his heart like the tide on the sand and dragging tiny pieces of him into her. When she moved forward to rest her head against his chest, sighing happily as they continued to sway, he was reminded of just how completely hers he really was. And in that room, under the gentle white lights, with her cheek over his heartbeat, it didn’t scare him the way it had in the past. For just a moment, all of the fear and doubt that still chased him like snarling hounds, faded away, leaving him a heavenly state of bliss. 

However it was only about a minute before his buzzing phone snapped them both out of the pleasant haze that had fallen on them, dissipating it like a leaf blower.

“I wonder who that could be,” she muttered tartly, her arms remaining locked in place even as their feet had stilled and her head had lifted.

“They wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important,” he reasoned grudgingly, although he didn’t want to let go either.

 _‘Now?’_ he thought grouchily. _‘Of all the times there could have been a problem during our vacation,_ now _is when it happens?’_

Some days he was almost certain that there was some force out there in the universe conspiring against them, pushing them away from each other for its own sick amusement. It made him just a little smug to think that it hadn’t won out in the end.

Jemma’s phone chimed from the little round table off to the side of the dance floor where she’d left it earlier that evening and she let out a long sigh before reluctantly pulling away.

”At least we were able to stay for the wedding,” she conceded, half-heartedly optimistic. Then her smile returned in earnest, eyes narrowing with affection. “I’m glad you asked me to dance.”

 _‘Really, you asked me,’_ he thought fondly. He smiled back at her, allowing them a few more seconds in their sweet bubble world. “Yeah, me too.”

This time their phones sounded at the same time, snagging the attention of a few other guests whose heads turned towards the chime of Jemma’s, probably wondering when whoever it belonged to was going to get it.

“I’d better get that before my mum decides to answer it,” she chuckled, giving his nose a quick peck that left him blushing and flustered as she skipped away.

His own phone buzzed insistently in his pocket and he couldn’t stop himself from grumbling as he fumbled to get it out.

_‘This had better be important.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is loosely based off of 2 episodes of the science fiction series Fringe. The episode that share's the stories title and another episode called One Night In October. It's not that short a story (11 chapters done and maybe 12 total) but it IS about love :P
> 
> I will not admit to knowing how to do the time-warp :P. I just remember we did it at my dad's wedding.


	2. What's on Your Mind?

The team picked them up at the local airport in the hover jet and they took off shortly after everyone was aboard. On the way to the Playground, Coulson briefed them on their newest mission while Daisy and Mack grinned approvingly beside him, taking in their formalwear.

Jemma didn't really blame them, she hardly ever wore dresses and Fitz was... well he was absolutely gorgeous in his suit, the navy blue of his tie making his eyes stand out even more than they usually did. The pair of them must have been something to look at.

Still she couldn't help but feel a bit out of place among the uniformed agents, and she was looking forward to changing back into something more comfortable, even if that meant that Fitz likely would too.

"There's been a string of unusual murders on the East Coast," Coulson was telling them, passing them the open file on his tablet as he spoke. "Divers found a mass grave this morning at the bottom of Grand Lake, New Brunswick. A pair of tourists called it in. I'm sorry to cut your vacation short, but we really need your eyes on this one."

Jemma had already began going through the information, Fitz looking over her shoulder. There were at least a dozen and a half victims, all found dumped away from the location of their murder. All of them were male, late twenties to mid thirties, and all of them had pen sized puncture wounds on either side of their head. Right above their temples, Jemma noted, the thinnest part of the skull.

None of the injuries were particularly gruesome, though the bodies had been bloated by the water and she saw Fitz wince out of the corner of her eye, turning his head to face their leader rather than the screen displaying them.

"What pulled us into it?" he asked, and Jemma glanced up, having been wondering the same thing.

"Go to Anson Carr's profile," he instructed. "He was the least… decayed… and the FBI found some of the attackers skin under his fingernails." He nodded his head towards the tablet, smiling grimly. "They didn't find a match to anyone in their database but you'll never guess what came up when they went to analyze it."

"It's Inhuman," Jemma remarked, quickly scanning over the results. She recognized Bobbi's signature on the report and guessed that she'd been the one to make the confirmation.

"So some Inhuman is doing... what? Running around drilling holes in people's heads?" Fitz asked, frowning skeptically at his own conclusion.

"Something got in underneath the skull," Coulson told him, grimacing at the thought. "We haven't had time to look too far into it yet and the FBI stopped their investigation as soon as we took over the case, but from what Bobbi's been able to figure out there's been damage done to their brains."

"There aren't any Inhumans with abilities like that," Daisy said, puzzled.

"Perhaps the damage is from some undocumented ability then?" Jemma suggested, thinking out loud. "Or from whatever made these wounds."

"Or both," Fitz added.

"Or we're just dealing with a serial killer that happens to also be Inhuman," Mack pointed out.

At that the group exchanged a quizzical glance.

"That'd be a new one," Coulson said.

/-/-/

Back at the Playground, Jemma had shed her smooth blue dress for her usual jeans and blouse. Over that she wore a crisp white lab coat and a large pair of safety goggles protected her eyes, thick rubber gloves keeping her hands from contaminating her work.

She was surprised that Fitz was still in the room with her, considering his passionate aversion to the dead, but perhaps it made it easier that this man's body was- more or less- intact. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be that way for very much longer.

"These wounds let something in," she muttered, trying to puzzle out the images on the screen in front of her. There were no external signs to indicate what had killed this poor man, however the view inside of his skull told them a great deal more. "There's extensive damage to his frontal and temporal lobes and his hippocampus has been completely destroyed, I doubt I'll find any undamaged tissue when I remove it."

"Is that what killed him?" Fitz wondered, his words coming from between his teeth and when she turned to face him she caught him grimacing at the images before them.

He really didn't need to be there for this, his discomfort was obvious and she thought that this particular kind of injury was probably difficult for him to stomach. As much as she loved his company, she'd be surprised if he didn't leave before she began the dissection.

Jemma shook her head, turning back to the screen. "No." Her finger hovered over the bottom image, circling around the outside of the brain. "His brain began to swell sometime after the damage was done, it was the pressure that killed him." Her features narrowed into a frown and she shook her head again. "But I don't understand why, what did they put inside of him? There's nothing in there now. Not that I can see using the scanning equipment anyway."

"Which means you're cutting him open," Fitz guessed grimly.

"You don't have to be here for that part," she reminded him, already preparing the tools she would need.

He remained where he was, leaning against one of the steel tables, folding his arms over his chest with a look of clear discontent plastered across his face.

With a sigh, Jemma paused her work, stepping over to stand in front of him. "What is it?"

His mouth twitched and he glanced back at the body before meeting her eyes, shrugging his shoulders as he did. "I guess I was just… hoping it was going to be something we could do together." Her eyebrows rose, not understanding, and he went on. "Well it's just that we were _supposed_ to be spending the evening with each other, we were supposed to be dancing and eating unnecessarily expensive party snacks and then tonight-"

Jemma couldn't stop the smile from lifting her cheeks, her eyes teasing now that she thought she'd found the source of his disappointment. "Fitz we can still _do_ what we were planning to do tonight. It's not too late yet, especially now that we've changed time zones. I should be done in a few hours, maybe I'll even find something for you to examine in the meantime."

She stopped herself from adding ' _other than me,'_ for the sake of keeping their workspace at last mildly professional, though it was tempting.

That seemed to cheer him considerably, even flushing out a blush that turned the tips of his ears a satisfying shade of red. "That wasn't the only thing I was talking about," he mumbled shyly, then his smile faltered briefly, smaller when it returned. "I just thought… after everything we've been through it would've been nice have a normal day for once. Sometimes it feels as if... " He shook his head, frowning at himself. "It's nothing."

' _No it isn't,'_ she thought. ' _Something is wrong and I can't fix it if you won't tell me.'_

She peeled off her gloves and placed them on the steel table next to him, catching his chin with the edge of her fingers to lift his gaze towards her. "Fitz," she urged quietly.

He took her hand, rubbing it between his own as he debated what to say, his mouth forming an unhappy line though his touch was gentle with affection.

"Do you ever feel like every time we find a moment to be happy, something comes along to tear it apart?" he blurted at last, looking mortified with himself the moment he'd said it, though he waited, eyes shining, for an answer.

A knife twisted into her heart at the thought and she stared back at him, gripping his hand as she searched for a reply.

' _Well if there is something coming for us I'm not going to let it,'_ she thought fiercely. ' _I worked too hard to find my way back to you, I'm not losing you, now or ever.'_

But that was nonsense and they both knew it. Nothing was out to get them, they simply had a particularly hazardous job and besides that they were stronger now, wiser. Surely that meant they were better prepared for whatever might come avalanching their way next.

"Fitz I promise you, nothing is going to pull us apart again," she assured him firmly. "And you don't have to stay here with me to prove that, as much as I'd enjoy your company. Go find something more agreeable to do, I'll find you after I'm finished here."

Still embarrassed, he stood up straight, breaking their hold on each other to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah… I suppose you're right." He paused, his eyes lighting up as they rested on her. "I'll see you soon then?"

Her hand cupped his cheek, pressing against the warmth of his stubbly skin as she basked in his gaze. "I'll see you soon."

The smile her words brought to his face made her heart swell in her chest, and warmth spread down to her toes when he leaned forward to kiss her, making the world slow to a still.

She was still grinning after he'd left, listening to his footsteps fade before finding another pair of gloves and returning to work.

/-/-/

Jemma had been right about needing to get a look inside the man's head. As she'd predicted, his hippocampus was completely destroyed, shrunken and spongy with holes. There were burrows as well, tunnels leading through the delicate tissue and it was inside one of those burrows that she'd found their first clue as to what had killed Mr. Carr.

It was a tendril, pearly white once she'd cleaned it off, and after a quick inspection she'd discovered that it was made up of human neurons, though it was nothing like any nerve she'd ever seen. The tendril not only grew spontaneously towards the brain matter she supplied it with, but latched onto it, attempting to communicate with it although, since the tissue was dead, these attempts were futile.

The thing was as fascinating as it was horrifying. When she'd called in her leader to report her progress, he'd gone with horrifying.

"You think this... " He made a face, nodding his head towards the tendril, stored for the time being in Petri dish on the bench, "has something to do with the Inhuman's ability?" he asked.

"I think it _is_ the Inhuman's ability," she told him confidently. "I haven't run the DNA yet, but I suspect it will be a match to the samples we found under Mr. Carr's fingernails.

"And it's how they're killing people?" he guessed.

Jemma nodded. "Yes, I'm positive that this is what killed him but I think there's more to it than that." With the tap of a key she brought up a video she'd taken earlier, of the tendril interacting with the brain tissue.

Coulson frowned. "What's it doing?"

"It's forming a connection," Jemma told him, unable to keep the awe from her voice, as terrifying as the discovery was. "It's attempting to communicate with the other neurons… these ones are dead of course so it isn't going to work but…"

"What if they were alive?" Coulson wondered grimly. "What kind of information could it communicate?"

She blew out a breath, uncertain how to reply when she didn't have any concrete answers. "Most of the damage was done to the hippocampus," she speculated. "The portion of the brain that stores our memories."

Her leader's eyebrows rose. "This could have been some form of interrogation?"

"A particularly brutal form," she added, anger simmering in her voice. "I don't think this man was ever intended to survive this. And the swelling would have been terribly painful."

Coulson sighed, nodding in agreement at her assessment before pausing to take her in. "You've done good work here, but you like you could use some rest," he suggested.

"And you, sir?" she asked, already halfway through cleaning up her station.

"I'm on my way to inform Mr. Carr's wife what happened," he told her wearily.

Her stomach sank at the thought. She didn't need to imagine what news like that would do to someone.

"Go get some rest," Coulson repeated, gentle now, casting her a weak smile. "You did good work today Jemma, and I have a feeling we're going to need you again tomorrow."

' _Rest,'_ she thought, exhaustion settling over her like a fog now that she was finished at last. The change in timezone alone would have left her feet heavy but now they were heavier still from having been on them for hours. ' _He's right, that's exactly what I need right now. Time off my feet, and Fitz.'_

"Thank you sir," she said.

She watched him leave, wondering how he bore such a crushing burden without crumbling. Then she finished cleaning up, covered Mr. Carr, and left the lab to find Fitz, needing his smile, his laughter, his _life_ to pull her away from the thoughts of death that had crept into her, much like the tendrils that crept into that poor man's brain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I am terrible at anything to do with the brain (makes you wonder why I did this fic eh :P) so sorry if the details are a bit incorrect. Plus, you know, please excuse the impossibility of neurons growing out of someone's fingers and burrowing into someone's head XD.
> 
> Plus, fun fact, the temple is the weakest point in the skull but we also have a major blood vessel right underneath it. So don't go poking stuff in there. 
> 
> Anson Carr is a the name of a character on Fringe from the episode the title of this story comes from. He was a biochemist who dehydrated men in this scary machine to squeeze their hormones out in an attempt to make their lovers fall in love with him. He formerly worked for Empire World Fragrance in the show.
> 
> And as always, thanks to notapepper for betaing this chapter :D


	3. Dreaming

A few hours later, when night had fallen once again in their new time-zone Jemma and Fitz found themselves in their room, together as she'd known they would be. The universe, the cosmos, fate, whatever absurdity he'd been lead to believe was fighting to keep them apart had lost for the night.

The skin of his chest was bare and warm beneath her flushed cheek, his heartbeat thumping just underneath where she'd rested her palm. She liked the feel of it, of his life humming beneath her and the way his fingers absently traced lines over her ribs. She liked the feeling of safety that went with being so exposed beside someone she trusted. It made the world seem smaller and the both of them seem bigger, bigger and completely open to each other.

Being together, safe and free to just be for a moment, was a wonderful feeling. That, and the hormones likely rushing through her right then, had sent her into a calm state of bliss. Which was why she was so surprised when, after a minute or two of content silence, her thoughts drifted back to the case and what Fitz had said in the lab, darkening her bubble of happiness around the edges.

"It's so sad, what happened to all those people," she mumbled, regretting her words just a little when she felt Fitz's fingers stop their meandering, his hand falling to rest protectively on her side instead. But the thought had caught itself in her head and she couldn't shake it. "He was married, Mr. Carr. Coulson went to inform his wife earlier… I can't…" She winced. "What must she must be feeling right now? He wasn't much older than we are… they should have…"

Her eyes closed, as if she could shut it out.

"They should have had more time," Fitz finished for her, his voice low with regret. His arms came up around her, solid, reassuring despite the gloom she'd spread over them and he held onto her as if she were driftwood in a shipwreck. "No one should get to take that from anyone, a future with someone they love..." He didn't need to add that they both knew how painful it was, why it was such a terrible crime. She'd lost him on Maveth, lost everything, and it made her sick to think that someone would do that to another person on purpose.

She felt his chest shake beneath her as a long sigh quaked out of him, his breath warm against her hair before his free hand moved to smooth it down in slow, soothing strokes, as if he were trying to console her.

' _He didn't live a dangerous life either,'_ she thought dreadfully. ' _He was a dentist. He wasn't sent charging into danger, or to investigate hazardous objects or painted as a threat to a dangerous organization. He just kept people's teeth healthy. He kept people's teeth healthy and he still got mixed up in all this, it still killed him. What chance do we have?'_

"You know, I still think about that cottage," she whispered, so quiet she thought he might have been unable to understand her.

He did, of course he did.

His thumb moved steadily back and forth over her cheek, a solemn act of comfort in reaction to her sorrow though his voice was light when he spoke. "Is it still in Scotland?" he teased.

She smiled, letting out a puff of a laugh before lifting herself to see his face, eyebrows raising. "Perthshire hasn't moved Fitz," she jested.

The amusement in his eyes was like sparkling water and it made the darkness retreat to the fringes of their bubble.

"Why are you thinking about Perthshire Jemma?" he asked, gentle as always. Too gentle at times.

It was so tempting, to tell him what she was thinking, ask him the question on the tip of her tongue, and she was pretty sure he already knew anyway what she'd been getting at with this. She saw it in the way he stared patiently back at her, but she hesitated, letting the conversation play out silently between them, their eyes speaking for their mouths.

' _We should leave,'_ she pleaded. ' _Go somewhere safe, where we can live our lives out in peace. I'm so scared Fitz. All the time, of what could happen to either of us any moment, of losing you.'_

' _If that's really what you want, I'll come with you,'_ he answered.

However she wasn't… quite… sure. Was it what she wanted? Could they ever truly find somewhere safe to live after all the things they'd seen and done or would their enemies find them, alone and unprotected? Could they really leave this life when it still seemed so much a part of them? When the people in it were like family?

So instead she shook her head, leaning in to kiss him, trying to forget about the fear that had began all this talk in the first place, pretending that what she'd said hadn't meant anything.

She didn't really think she could fool him but he let her make believe that she had, twisting his fingers into her hair and smiling easily up at her when she pulled back. In that moment, she was grateful for how careful he was.

"We'd have a dog though, if we lived in Perthshire, wouldn't we?" he asked, humorous again as she settled back into the crook of his shoulder, surrounding herself with his warmth and the scent of his skin.

"I think we should have two," she agreed. "So that they can be dogs together."

"I like golden retrievers," her murmured sleepily.

' _That's because you are one,'_ she mused, warmth pouring out of her. She gave him a one armed squeeze, soaking him in through every pore, trying to pull them back to where they'd been a few minutes ago. "Me too," she told him. "And a garden."

"With dirt and creepy crawlies?" he asked and she rolled her eyes at his apparent unease.

"And shrubs and flowers," she countered. "Imagine all the beautiful things we could grow! And we could grow our own food! Fresh tomatoes and cabbage-"

"Cabbage?" he seemed even more affronted by the leafy green vegetable than he had been of the dirt and the insects. "What could we possibly need _cabbage_ for?"

"Well what do _you_ propose we grow in the garden then?" she challenged.

"I don't suppose you could make us a gummy worm tree?" he asked jokingly.

"We could have coralbells and columbine," she went on, ignoring his aversion to proper eating habits and tracing the shapes of the flowers she named onto his chest. She was still getting used seeing it bare and readily took any chance she could to map it out, thrilled at the journey into safe unknown, at being allowed to know every part of him. "Delphinium, roses- oh and we should have daisies of course."

"You're… really set on this…" he mumbled, distracted by the things her hands were doing.

She smiled, pleased, and paused for a moment to gather his attention. "I'm set on settling down with you," she answered. "Whether we have a garden or not."

"We'll have a garden," he promised. "And all the flowers and… er, vegetables... you want." He lifted his head to peck a kiss into her hair. "It'll be perfect."

"It will be," she agreed.

Over the next hour they continued to plan their imagined life, chatting as they prepared for bed, as they settled back in under the blankets, filling it up so that she could see it in her mind's eye, and though it was wonderful she still wasn't entirely sure it was what she wanted. Not yet anyway. For now she was content to exist in that moment, happy, safe and free with the man who kept her heart so carefully.

Just as she was fading into sleep, feeling it flood around her like a warm bath, she heard Fitz's voice in her ear, her last shred of the waking world that night.

' _I love you, Jemma.'_

And she wanted to reply, wanted to say _I love you too,_ but sleep took her too quickly and anyway after everything that had happened, with everything she felt for him, she wasn't sure she knew how.

/-/-/

The next morning, Fitz was awakened by a bouncing mattress and ice cold toes pressing against the bare skin of his leg, a breeze sliding over him, making him shiver before the person who'd lifted his blanket crawled underneath and wrapped it snuggly around them both.

He grumbled, opening his eyes to see Jemma, laying sideways beside him but wide awake and staring at him with a look that told him she had a story on the tip of her tongue.

"You would not _believe_ what just happened," she whispered, as if lowering her voice would take the chirp out of her words.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily, blinking a few times but unwilling to move until he knew that it was a decent hour for that sort of thing.

"It's six thirty," she informed him, sounding as if she were wondering why that was relevant.

Another grumble, his eyes shutting. "Jemma…."

"I think Lincoln is planning a surprise anniversary for Daisy," she said quickly, somehow keeping her words quiet even as they poured out of her like a geyser. "I found him in the kitchen, looking at restaurant reviews and he asked me if Daisy and I ever talked about… well… an ideal date was what he said. And he told me not to mention any of it to her but I could see that he was planning _something."_ She grinned, a far off look in her eyes. "I think she's going to be very happy."

For a panicked moment, Fitz wondered if his girlfriend was trying to hint at something, something she wanted _him_ to do that he'd completely forgotten about, but one look at her smile once he'd cracked open an eye told him that she was just happy for their friend and it warmed his heart, despite the fact that he'd still rather be asleep, that she was so excited about it.

He moved his arm, sacrificing his cocoon of stillness to wrap it around her, pulling her close, delighted when she snuggled into him, her pajamas soft against his exposed skin.

"I think so too," he agreed, smiling when Jemma nuzzled her forehead against his.

In the quiet that followed he began to doze off but before he could she'd gone wriggly again, twisting her arm out from under the covers to hold his cheek as she kissed his nose and he was torn between soaking in her affection and admitting that had planned on sleeping in past seven that morning.

"Fitz you need to get dressed," she told him.

He sighed, shaking his head as he stifled a yawn. "Not yet…"

"We have a meeting at seven, Coulson found a lead he'd like to discuss with the team," she went on, sympathetic as she was firm.

_Didn't anyone in this base sleep?_

Another kiss landed between his eyes, fleeting but filled with fondness. "Get dressed," she repeated. "I'll make you something to eat so you won't be so grumpy at the meeting."

Before he could tighten his grip in protest she was gone, leaving a warm imprint behind her as she slid out into the hallway, the door shutting with a click.

He didn't like waking up early, but the thought of breakfast _did_ cheer him up.

"Thanks Jemma," he mumbled, wishing she'd stayed a little longer for a proper thank you. Maybe one that ended in him leaving his kiss imprinted on her skin, much like the way her's was now on his, leaving him grinning to himself as he sat up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to tumblr's: theclaravoyant, recoveringrabbit and dr-jemsimmons for their input on Perthshire cottage :D
> 
> Thanks to notapepper for being my beta :D 
> 
> There is a *slight* Fringe reference in this chapter. Jemma's "she wanted to say I love you too" is based on Olivia's (to John Scott) "And I wanted to say I love you too" Big difference is Olivia says it out loud.
> 
> Also from this point on I will be posting Tuesdays and Fridays. I have the whole 12 chapters done, so no delays are expected :D


	4. Bait

It had only been peanut buttered toast, but somehow he'd managed to make her feel as if she'd done something special, sending her that grin that seemed reserved for her and her alone, the one she couldn't believe it had taken her so long to see.

"You're too good to me," he praised, thanking her with a quick peck on the cheek when she took the place beside him. "Thank you Jemma."

Her eyes narrowed warmly at him, thinking that he was exactly that to her. "You're quite welcome."

"We have a lead," Coulson announced, drawing the team's attention towards him. Most of the familiar faces were present, however Daisy, May and Hunter were out on a mission, tracking down their own lead on Lash which Jemma had been following with deepening despair. The body count was growing and she knew that was, at least partially, her fault. "Bobbi and I have been interviewing the families of the victims and they all seem to tell the same story."

"They all went missing in the same park," Bobbi continued, flicking a switch so that the image of the park flashed onto the overhead screen. It was nice, a winding concrete trail, towering trees dappling it with shade and a large, green, grassy field where someone was throwing a frisbee for their dog. It didn't look like a place that could be the source of so much tragedy. "Their stories are are actually really similar. They went for a stroll, the victim lost his wallet and went back to look for it and after that he never came home."

"All men?" Mack asked.

"Yes and all couples," Coulson told him. "Which, along with with what Jemma found last night, gave me an idea."

Jemma perked up at that, seeing the connection but not understanding what it meant. "When I did a chemical analysis of the tendril I found unusually large amounts of dopamine, serotonin, vasopressin and oxytocin," she told them.

"Love hormones," Fitz explained beside her, they'd discussed it already the night before.

"Well, more specifically they're involved in the reward pathways of the brain," Jemma corrected, unsatisfied with the simplicity of the statement. "Vasopressin is released after sex along with oxytocin which is also involved in long term bonding."

She noticed Fitz's cheeks flushed at the word _sex_ and she rolled her eyes at him. He hadn't been that shy about it last night.

"So…. hormones that you could associate with someone in a relationship, with couples?" Coulson asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"And the region of the brain with the most damage," he pressed. "That had to do with emotions?"

"Emotions and memories," she confirmed, at last following his train of thought and she frowned. "But sir… I don't understand why someone would…. are you trying to imply that…"

"That they were somehow leaching off these people's experiences together?" he said seriously. "Is that possible?"

"The brain is one of our greatest mysteries," she admitted with a shrug. "Neurons allow the transport of messages… it's…. from all the things we've seen inhumans do it wouldn't the first to stretch our knowledge of the laws of nature. The hippocampus is also involved in memories, which was why we originally thought this was about interrogation. But if they wanted to experience love, well you'd need the memories of it, a walk in the moonlight, a ride on a ferris wheel," her eyes couldn't help but be drawn to Fitz as she spoke, "a slow dance at a wedding."

Bobbi frowned. "Why would someone be going through all this trouble to… what? Experience someone else's relationship? It seems a bit far to go for that."

"You ever been lonely?" Mack pointed out. "Love makes people do crazy things, maybe wanting love does too."

Jemma and Fitz exchanged a glance and she knew they both understood. Neither of them would ever condone murder, but they both knew how much it ached to be alone and no one had to remind them how far love could drive someone to go.

"Either way, I think we can be pretty sure what he's after," Coulson's voice cut through their silent communication. "And the best way to catch him is to set out some convincing bait. Since Hunter's away and so is Daisy we only have one couple left on the base."

It took her a few blinks for her to realize he was talking about her and Fitz and the implications of that sent a thrill of terror up her spine. ' _He takes the men,' she thought in alarm. 'He takes them and he destroys their brains.'_

An objection rose in her throat but Bobbi beat her to it. "You can't send them out in the field again so soon," she said testily. "Not like this."

"I don't really think we have much of a choice, Agent Morse," he shot back, eyes flaring in a warning. This side of him had been rearing up more and more lately and Jemma knew she wasn't the only one it made uneasy.

"Send me and and Mack," Bobbi offered, refusing to budge.

"I don't think you'd be as convincing as the real thing," Coulson countered.

"You don't think we know how to play a role?" she deadpanned.

"I think the real thing is our best shot," he snapped, patience as thin as the tip of a blade. "People are dying, Agent Morse, do you want to tell the next new widow the news?"

"He won't be after Jemma?" Fitz's question sent their heads whipping towards him. "He only takes the men?"

He sounded relieved. It made her want to yell at him, but she was a stone at his side. She hated that his agreement was conditional on the fact that _he_ be the one in danger but Coulson was right and maybe she was being selfish. Someone could die if they didn't do this, someone without a SHIELD tactical team to protect them.

"I'll do it," he told them bravely, turning to her as he spoke. "If Jemma agrees."

She couldn't convince her head to nod, her stomach hurt and her skin had turned to ice. It was a risk. It was a _huge_ risk on his part and as much as she knew it was necessary she was having trouble forcing herself to agree to it.

Her chest rose in a painful breath and she swallowed the lump back down her throat. "He won't actually be taken?" she inquired, looking her leader in the eye.

"No one's going to touch either of you," he promised. "We'll have SHIELD agents monitoring you the entire time."

"You don't have to do this," Bobbi reminded them, ignoring the side-eye from Coulson at that. "But if you do I'll be right there." She gave Fitz a half smile. "I'm not letting anyone take you anywhere."

They did though, have to do it. One look at Fitz told Jemma he knew it as much as she did, and though a part of her wished he'd be more resistant to jumping into danger, she also knew that the man she loved was brave enough to put aside his fear for the good of others. It frustrated her as much as it made her adore him.

Their eyes met and she nodded her acceptance, doing her best to stifle the voice in her head that was screaming that this was mistake.

"We'll do it," Fitz told them.

/-/-/

The park was as lovely as it had been in the pictures, more so with the sunlight washing over them and the smell of grass mingling with birdsong. Any other time, in any other situation, she would have been enjoying this, walking hand in hand with Fitz on a peaceful afternoon. Today though, even the sunshine couldn't warm the icy fear that had settled over her. She'd never been like this before, she'd been afraid for him but not like this. Never had she been so irrationally _convinced_ that she was going to lose him and never had that fear been able to consume her the way it was now. This was months in the making. It was Maveth and Will and Andrew and watching Fitz step through the portal all mashed together, weighing on her like the mass of the ocean had weighed on their little pod so long ago.

"Cheer up Jemma," Fitz whispered teasingly, rocking their hands between them as they strolled side by side down the path. "We're supposed to be a happy couple remember? I'm not going to be very good psycho inhuman bait if you keep frowning like that."

He'd meant it as a joke, to lighten the mood, but it only made her heart jump into her throat. It was the truth behind his words, however, that snapped her out of her head. He was right, they needed to be convincing and as much as she hated it she had a job to do.

So she forced a smile, pushing down her fear, and leaned in to kiss him, trying to lose herself in the way their lips moved together, give her body something other than fear to react to. It worked, fleetingly, but long enough for her to regain some composure and when they pulled apart her smile didn't feel as false as it had been only a moment ago.

"You need to stop referring to yourself as bait," she scolded. "If _you_ want to be at all convincing as an innocent civilian."

His mouth turned up in a smug smirk and he butted her forehead with his, tilting his head so his words whispered into her ear. "An ordinary civilian wouldn't know their wallet had just been picked."

It had started then. Their plan had worked and Fitz now had a target painted on him. That or he was out twenty six dollars and a points card with nothing to show for it. Jemma grit her teeth doing her best to keep her cheerful demeanor when he pulled away.

Bobbi's voice sounded in her hidden earpiece. "The trap's been sprung. Wait ten minutes and then meet us at the corner of St. Catherine street."

It was as if she were slipping down a hill, struggling against the instinct to reach out for something to stop her until she felt gentle fingers tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and she met Fitz's eyes to see them shining with affection.

"Let's enjoy our walk then, shall we?" he offered, giving her hand a squeeze and beginning to move away, slow enough to give her time to follow. "It'd be a shame to waste such a beautiful day." he chuckled. "I think this is the most time in the sun we've had since Sci-Ops."

She rolled her eyes. "We're still technically working Fitz," she reminded him, falling into step beside him.

"Does that mean this doesn't count as a date?" he asked slyly.

"If I'd have know that I might have done my hair," she teased back, crinkling her nose at him and allowing the warmth coming off of him to thaw her. "Worn something special for the occasion."

"It was nice at the wedding," he agreed, eyes running over it. "But you always look beautiful," He shrugged, his expression still glowing with affection. "And you're what makes an occasion special."

He said it as if it were a fact, the way he'd say that light traveled faster than sound, as if it were a given constant of the universe and it made her stomach crinkle, cheeks flushing. How was it so easy for him to make her feel loved? It came so naturally sometimes she wondered if he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

She didn't know what to say and her face had probably turned bright pink, it felt as her skin were buzzing, blood roaring past it as the vessels dilated.

Of course she didn't have to say anything, Fitz gave her a moment in case she'd had a response and then he was talking again, swinging her hand between them. "You think our cottage should be near a park?" he asked, head turning to take in the gnarled branches of an old oak tree.

"I think that would be lovely," she agreed. "We could bring our dogs."

"Copernicus and Alferov," he reminded her. They'd named them last night. The sweet little things probably weren't even born yet and they already had the best names in their litter. "Yeah I'm sure they'd have fun, chasing frisbees, sniffing other dog's poop-"

"We aren't letting them sniff other dog's feces," she insisted. Already he was planning to spoil them! Of course she hadn't expected anything different and though she tried to hide it her annoyance was mixed with amusement. "We have to set firm boundaries for them so they'll be well behaved."

"Well we have to let them have some fun too," he protested.

She huffed out an exasperated breath, foreseeing the future struggle she was going to have. He was a handful, this one, but he was _her_ handful and she knew she wouldn't have anyone else in in the universe.

They continued on the conversation, detailing out this little piece of their future and the ten minutes flew by far quicker than she wanted it too. Before she knew it, it was time to meet the others and in a few hours the second part of their plan would play out.

The first trap had been sprung. Now all they needed to to was bait the second.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOO I think it's really interesting that these hormones do a bunch of different things. Like Vasopressin, aka ADH, functions primarily in water retention and blood vessel constriction- which are both important in maintaining constant blood pressure in the body. However also it is released after sex and plays a role in social behaviour. Weird right? :P The body is a magical place. 
> 
> Also the dogs are named Copernicus after ohifonlyx33's post about Fitzsimmons dog on tumbrl and Alferov after Zhores Alferov, a physicist Jemma mentions in Eye Spy
> 
> Thanks to the ever-awesome notapepper for betaing this chapter :D


	5. Misunderstanding

Jemma and Fitz were back in the lab, trying to distract themselves from what was about to happen the best way they knew how, by working on a project.

"I think Stealthy's nearly ready for his first field mission," Fitz announced proudly, stepping back to stand beside Jemma so that they could inspect their work together. "Well, second mission. Since Daisy already, you know."

"Oh Fitz you aren't still sore about that are you?" Jemma tisked. "She brought him back."

"Yeah and she shouldn't have taken him without asking in the first place," he grumbled. She rose her eyebrows at him and he sighed, a smile creeping onto his lips. "No, I'm not. But I was right about him not being ready."

"He made far too much noise," she agreed.

"I think that we've fixed that now though," he said smugly, offering her the tablet to control the tiny drone. "Would you like to do the honours?"

Her eyes narrowed fondly at him. "Go ahead." He always had more fun playing with their toys anyway, her favourite part had always been analysing the data they brought back.

With the push of a button, the drone rose into the air, disappearing in front of them as the light was bent around it. Thanks to their modifications, it was silent as an owl in flight.

She exchanged a glance with Fitz, grinning proudly, and her gaze fell to the tablet which was monitoring the drone's location.

"Excellent," he cheered. "Everything seems to be working, even the video." Footage of the pair of them, standing close together in their lab coats, appeared in a box on the screen. He waved to show it was in real time. "The camera could be steadier though," he decided, tapping a button to render Stealthy visible again and neatly catching him with his spare hand when he whizzed towards him.

As he set back to work, Jemma decided to go over the case files one more time on the main computer, just in case she'd missed anything. The first file was Anson Carr's. He and his fiance smiled at her from the photo above the text, blissfully unaware of their impending loss.

"Poor things," she lamented, staring at the couple on the screen before her. "They're such a beautiful couple. Actually all the couple's have been rather physically pleasing," she noted wondering if it were somehow related to how they were selected. "The women have lovely faces and the men are in excellent shape. They must have been taken by surprise, although I'm sure they would have put up a fight unless he had some sort of weapon on hand."

"Yeah, pretty girl, big strong man with hands bigger than her face," Fitz muttered, still tinkering with Stealthy. His mood seemed to have soured in an instant. "Their partners probably weren't all that concerned about _them_ going back to the park later into the evening. What would they need to be afraid of?"

It took her a full thirty seconds to realize what he was going on about. "You're jealous?"

He looked embarrassed, lowering his head with the pretense of keeping his eyes on his work. "Well I'm not exactly, _that,_ am I?" The word came out from between his teeth, holding a drop of bitterness along with his discomfort. "It's what most people find attractive right? It's what you…." He clenched his jaw, ears reddening as if he'd said too much.

"I what?" she asked.

He shook his head, working hard to keep their eyes from meeting as she frowned at him, confused and a bit annoyed that he had secret assumptions about her. "It's nothing," he mumbled, pocketing their newest DWARF and moving to the other side of the lab.

He stopped at one of the computers, turning it on as if he were planning on doing some work on it although instead he stared out blankly just above the monitor.

"Fitz what are you talking about?" she pressed stubbornly, following behind him.

What was he trying to say? Was he upset with her for finding well-muscled men attractive? She had a few things to say about his crush on Amy Pond, but she wasn't _upset_ that he found her ginger hair pleasing. She didn't compare herself to other people the way Fitz did though and by the way he was fidgeting in place she could tell the conversation was making him unhappy.

What he said next took her completely by surprise, however.

"Do you ever wish you could have been with him instead of me?" He spoke quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

"...What?" she gasped.

He stared back at her, eyes shining, and she thought that maybe he was regretting having asked the question. "I mean Will," he clarified wretchedly.

"I know who you meant," she said flatly. How could he ask her that? How could he possibly think…?

"It's just I know you've been thinking about him," he plowed on. "With this assignment…. I know how hard it must be to see all these women losing the man they love…. like you did…. I know that's why you were so upset last night and when Coulson explained what was happening, why you were so unhappy at the park..."

That's what he'd thought she'd been upset about? That she was…. what? Wishing it were Will she got to plan a future with instead of him? How could he think that, after all they'd been through? Had she really failed so badly to show him how she felt?

"... and I'll never be what he was…" Fitz went on, talking nonsense. Why was he doing this? "He was strong and brave and he saved you from Maveth when I couldn't even do the one thing I promised I'd do. I failed you."

She needed to stop him. "Fitz, that's ridiculous, you-"

"If I could have let him come back instead of me I would have," he blurted out miserably.

 _Instead of me._ It hit her like a punch in the stomach. At last he'd gone too far.

"Idiot," she hissed, surprising herself with the ferocity behind the word, fury boiling in her bones.

His eyes flared with indignation, reacting to her tone out of hurt. "Excuse me?" he growled. "Where do you get off-"

"Where do _you_ get off deciding what I think?" she thundered, cutting him off as she brought herself up to her full height, cheeks hot as hellfire. "Is that really what you think this is about?"

He glowered, anger fueling off hers. "Then what-"

"I'm afraid for _you,"_ she seethed, a prickle of satisfaction rising through the bile in her throat when that shut him up. "I miss him, _of course I miss him_ , and I don't want to lose you too! How can you not see that?" He stared at her, eyes narrowed in confusion, still stunned by what she was saying so she plowed on while she had the chance. "How can you keep throwing yourself into danger-"

"I'm doing my job!" he exclaimed, snapping out of it far sooner than she'd been hoping.

"Not always," she shot back. He wasn't winning this one with that excuse, not after what he'd just said. "It's not your job to act as my human shield."

"You're angry with me for protecting you?!" He was as outraged as he was incredulous.

"I'm angry with you because I don't want you getting hurt for me anymore!" she shouted. " _I don't want you to getting hurt for me_ ," she repeated, cutting him off when he opened his mouth to protest. "It's too much! I can't have anyone else hurt, or worse because of me-"

"It's not because of you," he muttered under his breath. His shoulders had fallen, eyes softening as the anger drained from them but hers was still aflame. "Jemma I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"You all think you're saving me," she seethed. "You at the bottom of the ocean, Will back on Maveth, Andrew-"

His expression turned sympathetic at that but it only made her more furious. "Jemma what happened with Andrew-" he soothed.

"Was _my fault,_ " she spat. "Anyone else hurt because of him… it's my fault. The inhumans at the castle died because of me, Will died because of _me,_ and I have to live with that. But I can't-" her voice broke, the tears that had been gathering beneath her eyelids rolling free. He tried to reach out to her, to touch her shoulder, but she shuffled back, shaking her head. "I can't live with more blood on my hands Fitz," she whispered thickly. "Not if it's yours, not if… I can't lose you, not you. It's too much."

He was frowning at her, not understanding. "You can't expect me to… Jemma it wouldn't be your fault and if you're in danger of course I'm going to-"

"You'll what?" she snapped. "You'll let yourself drown for me? Put yourself between me and a gun? Let them take you to another planet to feed you to a monster?!" The memory was fresh enough that she could taste the fear it had kicked up. "You won't be doing me any favours." she snarled. "I can't watch someone else die for me. Especially not you! I'm not strong enough for that. If you had any idea how much you mean to me, how important you are, you'd know I couldn't-" Her throat closed and she had struggle to get the last of it out, forcing it through in a whisper. "You might as well let them kill me Fitz."

It was as if he were looking at her for the first time, seeing something new. His body had turned to stone except for his eyes which seemed to have liquified, shimmering like the surface of a pond, hiding his thoughts too far under for her to see. For several long seconds, neither of them spoke.

"Fitzsimmons?"

Their heads snapped around in unison as their leader appeared in the doorway to the lab and Jemma did her best to mask the surge of emotions fighting to explode out of her. It must have been convincing because he didn't seem to notice either of their distress.

"We're ready to go now," he informed them. "Fitz you're riding with Bobbi, Jemma you'll come with me and Mack on surveillance."

He left them as abruptly as he'd come, presumably to say goodbye in privacy, completely oblivious to what he'd just walked in on.

"Jemma…." Fitz started, stepping towards her, eyes bright with regret.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak and instead strutted across the distance between them to take his face between her fingers and lay a firm kiss on his lips. He responded immediately, almost instinctively, bringing his hands up to hold her against him and when their mouths parted she pressed her forehead against his, rubbing her thumbs over his cheeks and wishing she could push all the things from her head into his so that maybe he'd understand.

"Just come back to me," she breathed, her tone inviting no argument despite the fact that her words were merely whispers.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to notapepper for betaing this chapter :D
> 
> Thank you to agI03 for helping me out with the flow of the Fitzsimmons argument :D You gave some really helpful advice
> 
> Their 8th drone doesn't have a name in the show yet (I don't think?) so I named it Stealthy after the 8th dwarf in once upon a time. I just thought it was funny his name was Stealthy but he died because he wasn't stealthy enough.


	6. Making Mistakes

Jemma sat with Coulson and Mack in the back of the black SHIELD surveillance van, pursing her lips as she watched Fitz on the monitor, pretending to search for his wallet. The park was nearly empty, twilight turning the green world blue, and she couldn't help feeling like he was too exposed, too far from where Bobbi was standing watch.

"Everyone in position?" Coulson asked over the coms.

"Are you sure that Bobbi should be the only one out there?" she asked, wringing her hands together anxiously while Fitz and Bobbi's affirmative replies reached their ears.

"Daisy, May and Hunter are on a mission of their own, and I need Lincoln training the new recruits," he answered distractedly. "We can't let Hydra get ahead of us and I want this thing with Lash over as soon as possible."

She flinched at the mention of Andrew and a fresh pang of guilt struck her battered heart. ' _Stupid,'_ she thought angrily. ' _How could I have been so selfish and stupid? How could I have let him out?'_

The damage she'd caused haunted her every day, and she knew that she shouldn't be continuing to put her needs in front of everyone else's, that it was wrong to want to march out there and stop this, take Fitz away from here, somewhere they could be safe and happy. If she did that, this man would continue killing. If she demanded more agents to protect him she'd be sapping much needed resources, some of which were already being used to fix _her_ mistake.

"Bobbi's gonna take care of Fitz," Mack promised, noticing her taut expression. "No love leaching powered freak is getting anywhere near him."

His words were brave but Jemma noticed his gaze flicker uncertainly towards Coulson. It was no secret that Mack had doubted him in the past and with incidents like his early spat with Bobbi becoming commonplace, she knew that her friend's faith was wavering again.

Her gaze glued itself back to the monitor and her uncertainty returned, knotting her stomach like the branches of the tree she and Fitz had passed only hours before. Their argument kept playing itself in her head, the anger that had raged between them, his complete ignorance about what he was to her, his willingness to throw his life away for her sake, how she'd shouted at him, called him an idiot when really what she'd wanted to do was to tell him she loved him. Why had she never told him? It wasn't so hard, just three little words and they were as true the air she was breathing. Why had she waited so long?

"What's that?" she demanded, jumping towards the screen when a movement to Fitz's left caught her eye. However the creature spread it's wings, taking off in fright when he got closer and her cheeks flushed as she realized it was a crow. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I thought…"

"Jemma you need to calm down," Coulson told her gently. "Everything's going to be-"

His reassurance was cut short as twin beams flooded their view with light, blinding them momentarily and the sound of screeching tires blew in through their audio feed followed by a loud thump a cry of pain.

"That's Bobbi," Mack exclaimed, springing to his feet.

Without even so much as a glance Coulson's way he was storming through the rear door, gun ready and Jemma was right behind him, tailed by their leader. Panic had turned her heart into a jackhammer and her body seemed to move itself, limbs possessed by lightning as they carried her towards their friends.

Bobbi was on the ground beside the path, clutching her side but already struggling to her feet as they approached.

"I'm OK," she grunted.

"You're not OK, you were hit by a car!" Mack shot back impatiently, catching her when she staggered under her own weight.

"Someone needs to be on Fitz," she urged weakly. "Where is he?"

Jemma's breath caught in her throat as she frantically combed her gaze around the park, eyes straining to spot his familiar silhouette in the milky darkness. When she came up empty the world seemed to fall out from beneath her feet, making her stomach jump up into her throat.

"Fitz!" she shrieked. _Where was he? Why wasn't he here?_ "Fitz!"

"Fitz!" Mack's deep voice was thunder behind her.

An engine roared and her head whipped around, eyes catching on the car that was speeding away.

"No," she breathed. He was in there, she knew he was in there, however little sense it made for her to be so certain. It was as if a piece of her were being yanked out, threatening to be ripped from her completely if she couldn't prevent it from being pulled away.

The car was too far for them to stop it, and there were too many startled bystanders between them and the road for anyone to risk shooting at the tires. There was no way to catch up with it but her feet moved under her anyway, carrying her away in a mad sprint after it.

"Jemma come back!" Mack shouted, but his voice faded behind her as she catapulted away, eyes never leaving the car.

It was impossible to keep it in her sight, she knew that, but she couldn't bring herself to let go. A cruel voice in the back of her head warned that if she did he'd be lost forever, spurring her forward even as her lungs began to burn.

There were no other vehicles, allowing her to dash across the street without running into traffic, bolting by a startled man and his dog when she rounded the corner and realized the car had slipped out of her view. It was gone.

She slowed to a halt, gasping for breath, unsure if her nausea was from the sudden burst of exertion or the dizzying realization that the man who'd turned people's brains into hole riddled sponges had just succeeded in taking Fitz as his next victim.

A sudden grip on her arm made her jump, twisting away and turning her body to come face to face with Coulson, his eyes round with concern. She glared at him, filled with cold fury. A part of her wanted to shout at him but her body was still screaming for air she was worried if she spoke she'd throw up.

He must have gotten the message anyway, taking a step back and averting his gaze though he still didn't look as if he held any regret for his part in what had just happened.

"Jemma we'll find him," he promised quietly.

'I'll _find him,_ ' she thought fiercely, surprising herself when she found she couldn't put her faith in her leader's words. ' _I'll always find him. Whatever it takes.'_

She just hoped that when she did it wouldn't be too late.

/-/-/

Fitz's brute of a captor didn't remove the foul- smelling bag from his head until he'd taped down all four of his limbs to the frame a splintery wooden chair. Even after it was gone his nose felt as if it were being assaulted with every vengeful sock he'd ever left under his bed, but at least now he could breathe without tasting it.

His stomach was still sore from when he'd been pummelled by a large meaty fist, his wrists and ankles already beginning to hurt from his restraints, and he gulped in fresh air hungrily now that the filthy fabric that had been smothering him the entire way there was gone. It took him half a minute to reorient himself and when he did he noted that the room he was in was damp and old, the walls crumbling apart, leaving deep cracks in the stained concrete. To his horror, Fitz spotted a long, many- legged creature slipping through.

"Who are you?" The man's voice was gruff and there was something almost feral in his pale, blazing eyes as he glowered down at him.

He was tall, built like a tank and Fitz thought he might have been good looking if he wasn't so unkempt and if it weren't for the scowl that made him look like a stonefish.

"Who are _you_ , president of the filth and disease club?" he shot back stubbornly.

Another blow to his stomach left him gasping in pain and feeling the full weight of how exposed and helpless he was. This man could hit him until his knuckles bled and he wouldn't be able to lift an arm to defend himself. Fear shot through him like battery acid but he set his jaw and refused to let it show on his face. As soon as this brute knew he could scare him he'd be relentless.

"I know you're not an _innocent civilian_ ," he pressed, when Fitz's silence stretched past his patience. "Who was that protecting you?"

_Bobbi. Oh God, she'd been hit by this monster's car. He could only hope she was OK, or at least doing better than him._

"Are you SHIELD?" he demanded, louder now, angry.

Fitz refused to make eye contact, finding a spot of dirt on the floor instead. He must have overheard them talking. Why hadn't he kept quiet? Why had he had to open his big mouth and announce that they were undercover? He'd been distracted, worried about Jemma, _jealous_ even, he realized with a burst of shame. He was _jealous_ over a dead man, a dead man _he'd_ failed to save. It was despicable and he hated himself for it but he was and it had made him let his guard down. Now Bobbi was hurt and he'd ruined their entire plan.

The man pulled on his hair, dragging his head up so that he was forced to face him and he grit his teeth as his rough grip tore at his scalp.

"Are you?" he growled.

He was so close Fitz could smell his breath and he thought of hacking a glob of spit at him but it still hurt every time he breathed so he kept his mouth shut, glaring at him instead.

His captor grunted in frustration, releasing him but pulling out a few more hairs as he did. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, stepping back to pull up a chair of his own. He flexed his fingers as he sat, casting Fitz a smug smile that made him wish he _had_ spit on him. "I'm not an easy person to lie to… and you don't have to say a word for me to get my answers."

Grimy hands came towards his face and, gripped with terror, Fitz struggled again against the tape, throwing his weight to the side in the hopes of tipping the chair only to find that it had been anchored to the ground. His head was held firmly in place between the man's massive palms and the cool touch of his index fingers on his temples was followed by the terrible feeling of long, wormlike projections breaking his skin to slither their way into his head.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to notapepper for betaing this chapter :D
> 
> Dum dum dum. Have you guys banned Coulson from the Fitzsimmons club forever yet? I'm sorry....
> 
> Stonefish really do have grumpy looking face. AND they are super poisonous I think


	7. Things Remembered

The pain didn't start right away, and at first it was only a dull pressure under his scalp, like diving too far in a swimming pool. However as he felt the tendrils slither further in, releasing images, emotions, sounds, _thoughts_ which he was startled to find he had little control over, it began to ache. When a memory of his earliest days at the academy started playing itself before him, the scent of metal shavings and acetylene from his first step into the enormous workshop and an exciting fluttering beneath his breastbone, he had to concentrate to veer away from it and his effort turned the ache into a throb that beat in time with his heart.

"The things you try to hide can be just as telling as the things I see," the man warned tauntingly.

Fitz grit his teeth, glaring at him because he knew that already but he could see no way around it. He couldn't risk letting him catch a glimpse of something important but he didn't have the energy to keep him out of every memory.

_The cat he'd grown up with, Cheerful, a great orange thing who thought he was a puppy and shed fur at Fitz's feet as he slept._

_Call of Duty with Mack, the salty taste of pretzels on his tongue and the imprint of the plastic buttons on his thumbs._

_Laying in a hospital bed, fighting to move his fingers, the scent of flowers, anger, frustration, fear-_

He was jerked abruptly away from that one, an emotion that wasn't his finding it's way into his head but even though he knew it was one he'd felt before, it was alien to him, like seeing a sunset through a coloured filter and he struggled to comprehend it. Disgust? Annoyance?

_He was on a swing, young though he couldn't remember the exact age, and he smelled the rain coming in, felt the drop in pressure and the cool wind on skin as he rose and fell, rose and fell._

_The taste of beer, Hunter's voice, a story he didn't remember the words to about a hellbeast he would one day call his friend._

_Ward twisting his shoulder, terrible pain-_

Again the memory was cut short and this time the alien emotion was definitely annoyance.

The search moved on, tendrils squirming like burrowing worms, and Fitz was only dimly aware of the real world around him, the tape binding his wrists and the damp stinky air. He felt as if he'd been turned inside out and his thoughts were reality and reality a faded thought.

_Jemma, sitting across from him, smiling as she held up her phone for a quick photo. The joyful rush of affection bursting in his chest when he glanced up so that his gaze met the camera just as it clicked._

Another alien emotion, one he hated even more than first, _hunger, wanting, lust._

_No._

"No?" the man, mocking again, and Fitz wasn't sure if he'd thought the word or spoken it but it had been his and he took note that for a brief second he'd been in control of his own mind. "Didn't that lovely woman who raised you teach to share? Your mother? You have her eyes."

The man didn't feel anything about his mother, much to his relief, not disgust or wanting, no intention of harm. He wanted to go back to Jemma, Fitz could feel it, and it was becoming more and more difficult to resist.

"Stubborn aren't you?" he mumbled, patient, his words unstrained, and Fitz could tell he felt none of the pain that was stabbing through him right now. "This doesn't have to hurt so much."

He grit his teeth, trying to ignore the painful consequence of resistance, trying to pull all his focus into redirecting his thoughts away from Jemma.

_Her hand in his as they watched her sister walk down the aisle-_

' _Stop it!'_ The rage was all his. He didn't know why the man had fixated on Jemma, although he had an idea just out of reach that he knew he should be able grasp, but he knew that this man wanted something from her and that scared him enough to plow into the torture of attempting to flee from the memories.

"You're only making this harder for yourself," he scolded, words from the real world coming in through thick haze.

As hard as he fought, the man was stronger and when the throb burst into a quick pulse of head splitting agony it shocked him into letting go and to his horror he lost control once again.

_Jemma's toes, cold against his skin. Her kiss on his nose._

"Please stop," he barely heard his own voice whispering, miles away.

_His hand in hers again, the scent of grass and trees, sunshine on his face, happiness._

_Her shouting at him, his heart aching as he realized how much pain he'd caused her-_

Fitz was surprised when this memory was cut short, and the man scrambled to move on, digging backwards in time.

_The wedding again. A slow song, swirling lights, the smell of her hair under his chin. Peace, belonging._

This one lingered and Fitz was growing weaker. Pulling away from the thought felt like trying to drag a car with a rope and the pain his efforts cost him was distracting enough to stall him each time he started. His head hurt all the time now and the alien emotions were invading. _Excited, satisfied._ It made his stomach lurch in disgust.

Further back now.

_Sitting on the sofa at the base, listening to her talk. The words weren't clear but he knew what she was saying and it hit him like a punch to the gut. Anger, guilt for being angry, despair-_

The memory was dropped, flung away as if the man had been scalded by it and in the brief moment in which he was distracted, Fitz found he could think clearly.

' _He doesn't like it when it's difficult,'_ he realized. ' _He doesn't like the memories that hurt.'_ If he weren't so hurt and exhausted he might have managed a smug grin. ' _Maybe I can work with that.'_

So this time, instead of pulling he pushed, pooling the last of his dwindling strength.

_Darkness, water, death. Saying goodbye to her. Terror of his own death, terror that even with his sacrifice she wouldn't make it either. Fear that she'd die alone and in pain as the pressure built in her veins atop the unforgiving waves-_

Again the memory was violently rejected but Fitz had more, he had so many more.

_She'd left him. She wasn't at her parents or if she was she wasn't coming back. She didn't want him anymore. Not as a lover, not even as a partner and a friend-_

He was jerked away from the scene in his head but he had the next one ready.

_A picture of another man with his arms around her. Anger, helplessness, the certainty that he'd never compare, never be good enough and the crushing wave of guilt that passed over him when that nearly made him hate the bearded face staring back at him. Guilt now, not a memory, because Will had been good, had saved someone he loved and Fitz hadn't been able to save him._

"What are you doing?" the man growled, frustrated.

_Jemma returning from her mission to Hydra. Finding out where she'd been, hurt, a stone in his stomach because she could have died a thousand times and he'd had no idea. His whole body aching because he'd thought she'd gone to get away from him._

The tendrils twitched, reversing, moving backwards in their tunnels, and the minute relief in pain and pressure was like fresh air.

_Jemma's face when he couldn't say the word monkey. The way her eyes dulled even as she tried to hide her pain. She wasn't good at lying yet, and her expression betrayed her. The fear, the disappointment. He hadn't know then how much self loathing there'd been as well but it hurt him now to think of her hating herself for even a second._

The man was trying to resist, pulling away from the stream of memories but he seemed to have less experience digging his way out of them than into them and Fitz could feel that he was struggling.

"Stop," he commanded.

' _No,"_ Fitz thought fiercely. ' _Get out of my head.'_

_A cave on a faraway planet. Two beds pushed together, Ward's taunting voice in his ears._

_Jemma's screams._

Fitz almost flinched away from this one too but he knew that he couldn't stop now that it was working and besides this wasn't real. He couldn't hurt her in his head, he could only hurt himself, so he played it through.

_Helplessness, rage as if he were bursting out of his skin, fear like he'd never known it before. On and on in what seemed like an endless loop of wishing she'd stop screaming, that they'd stop hurting her, to wishing he could hear her again because in the silence he didn't know if she was dead or alive._

The tendrils slithered, retreating and the fog that had been keeping him in his head lifted although it left him with a headache that rivaled any hang-over he'd ever had.

"What is _wrong with you?!"_ the man spat and Fitz didn't need their nervous systems connected to recognize his disgust. "You're broken, both of you."

"We're not… broken…," he gasped, feeling like he'd just run in a marathon. "We're just stronger… than you."

He wasn't listening, he'd risen to his feet to pace agitatedly back and forth between Fitz and the dusty yellow window that lit the room with strangled sunlight. As he took the time to catch his breath, doing his best not be distracted by the disturbing trickles of blood that ran down from the deep holes in both his temples, Fitz felt the throb settle back into an ache and he found his thoughts unfogging.

' _He wanted to leach off my happy memories,'_ he realized, grasping on to the thing he'd forgotten while his mind was invaded. ' _Coulson and Jemma were right, it's what he's after- and he wants it badly enough that it distracted him from interrogating me.'_

Maybe he couldn't help it, maybe he craved it as if it were a drug. He certainly seemed agitated that he hadn't been able to get it from Fitz.

"I can fix this," the man said at last, nodding to himself as he spoke.

Fitz bristled. "I told you I'm not broken," he spat. " _You're_ the one who's-"

"Shut up!" he shouted, rounding on him and raising a hand as if to hit him and Fitz flinched, remembering the blow he'd received when he'd first arrived. The man hissed in frustration but let his hand relax, sparing him further injury. "I can fix this," he muttered.

He moved away, to the table where he'd dumped the eclectic collection of items Fitz had been carrying in his pocket, lifting his cell phone and turning it on.

"What are you doing?" Fitz asked warily. "You can't get in, you'll need my password - and I'm _not_ telling you anything!" he added adamantly.

The man sneered. "I _know_ your password. And your birthday, where you were born, what you're afraid of…."

His heart sank. Of course he did, he knew everything now. The sense of victory he'd felt only seconds before snuffed out like a candle in a flood. "What are you going to do?" he growled.

His captor had paused once he'd unlocked the phone, eyes drifting greedily across the screen, Fitz's background picture, him and Jemma grinning outside the temple in Peru. The look on his face made him sick to his stomach.

"Hey, worm fingers!" he snapped, struggling futilely against his bonds, fury burning through him. " _What are you going to do?!"_

He regarded him the way someone would a fly ramming itself against a window, then he smiled smugly, tapping a button and pushing the phone against his ear. "I'm going to fix this."

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to notapepper for betaing this chapter :D
> 
> Fun fact, I think I mentioned it before in this fic maybe too, that memory and smell are very interlinked. I think that it has something to do with how close the areas of the brain concerning them are? Anyway that's why there's so much to do with scent in this chapter. And it's going to come up again in the next one in maybe a bit of an evil way ..... bonus points if you figure out how :D
> 
> Also Cheerful was the name of my Dad's cat growing up but as a kid he'd call it Chairfold. He said he thinks he didn't connect the name to the cat because it was always so grumpy


	8. Choices

The base felt too quiet, too calm after what had just happened. Coulson had kept his promise, for the most part, reallocating resources to the search for Fitz and even Bobbi, who should have been resting, sat at one of the computers in the lab, tirelessly making her way through the security footage while Jemma prepared her third test solution. However a part of her had been expecting a larger reaction, agents swarming to their stations like bees, new information being pulled in and analyzed in a constant flow. It was ridiculous, she knew that. Even the old SHIELD, with all it’s resources wouldn’t have been so focused on a single agent. The picture in her mind was a reaction to a high priority threat, a global catastrophe which this wasn’t, as much as it felt like it to her.  

So she’d pushed back her ludicrous complaints and set to work. For all her experience in the field, she knew her true strength was still in the lab and she knew that creating something that would allow them to inhibit the Inhuman’s power would be vital if they were too late to stop him from using it on Fitz. If they simply shot him, she had no idea what the neural connection would do to Fitz and if they tried to pull out the tendrils by force they could end up doing devastating damage. They needed something that would cause the tendrils to let go and retreat without hurting the brain they’d latched onto.

Her first two tries hadn’t been successful. Solution number one had killed both the inhuman and human cells and solution number two had killed the inhuman tendril but left it attached to the human neurons like a tumor. Any attempt to remove it would have been incredibly dangerous.

“Third times the charm,” Bobbi said encouragingly, glancing at Jemma over the monitor as she transferred a few milliliters the third solution onto the neural link she’d allowed to form.

It was surprisingly easy to create test samples from the tendril she’d found. It grew quickly, sprouting new samples which linked spontaneously with any human brain tissue she present it with. It gave her a nearly endless supply of test subjects, however time was an ever present limiting factor on her experiments and each second she lost on failure increased the chances that she wouldn’t have the answer ready when they needed it.

She held her breath as the clear liquid made contact with the wiggling white tendril, soaking into it and after several frantic heartbeats it twitched, turning grey around the edges. Then, slowly, it began to retreat, shrivelling like a dried up plant as it did. Soon the human brain tissue was completely free of it and it was beginning to crumble.

Exhaling in relief she allowed herself a moment to glance back at Bobbi, the tiniest of smiles making it’s way onto her mouth until she remembered that Fitz was still out there, alone, probably hurt and they hadn’t come across a single clue as to where he was. This was a step forward, but it was far from a victory.

Bobbi must have seen her swift change in expression. “Hey, it’s only been a few hours,” she reminded her optimistically. “Coulson has Daisy trying to track the license plate through security cameras and we have a picture of the man who took him.” She nodded towards the cartridges into which Jemma was now transferring the third, successful solution. “And now we’ll know what to do when we find him.”

 _‘We have a blurry image of him that doesn’t show his face,’_ Jemma thought dejectedly/ However she couldn’t focus on that now, she needed to keep working. “The toxin I’ve created is only in case of an emergency,” she told Bobbi, finishing up and beginning to tidy her station. “It will attack and permanently destroy the Inhuman’s specialized neurons.”

Bobbi frowned. “You mean it’ll take away his powers?”

Jemma shifted uncomfortably, old arguments with Fitz surfacing, about the ethicacy of undoing the transformation. Daisy wouldn’t be happy about it, Lincoln would probably be furious but she could see no way around using it if those tendrils were inside of someone and she didn’t have time to needle out a way to make the process temporary.

“Yes,” she answered quietly. She thought of the autopsies she’d done, the bodies of this man’s victims and felt a spark of determination. “But I’m willing to do what we need to to stop him.”

“No arguments here,” Bobbi agreed. She rose to her feet, striding over to stand beside Jemma. “We _are_ going to stop him,” she promised, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she spoke. “Fitz’ll be back with us before you know it. He wouldn’t miss karaoke night.”

Her kind words brought out another small smile, but Jemma’s stomach still felt as if someone had punched her and she knew the knot in her neck and swirling cyclone in her chest weren’t going anywhere until they’d put a stop to this monster and her Fitz was back in her arms again.

“He wouldn’t want anyone to take his song,” she added, forcing herself to sound optimistic anyway.

Bobbi chuckled. “Are these ready?” she asked, motioning towards the cartridges.

Jemma nodded. “They’re interchangeable with the dendrotoxin packages for the ICERS, but I’ve marked these with a yellow dot so we won’t confuse them.”

“I can take them up to the tactical team,” Bobbi offered. “So we’ll be ready to move as soon as we know where we’re going.”

The other agent gathered up the cartridges and Jemma mumbled a grateful thank you as she took them out of the lab, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind.

Alone and with suddenly nothing to occupy herself with, she felt a fresh wave of fear crash over her. The could pretend all the wanted that everything was going to be alright but she’d lost friends already and she knew that not everyone in danger came home at the end of the day.

She leaned against the desk, rubbing the side of her head as she tried to calm herself but the scene in the park kept replaying behind her eyes. The screech of tires, the car speeding away, disappearing as she turned the corner. She should have said something earlier, made Coulson put more agents on this, kept her nerves under control in the van rather than distracting them by jumping at a harmless bird. It wasn’t fair that this kept happening. The medpod, Fitz’s injury, the monolith, Hydra, why were they always being ripped apart? Why was it, that the moment they’d realized what they’d meant to each other their world had turned on them?

It didn’t seem to matter how hard she tried, there was never a way out. At the bottom of the ocean, for all their planning there had only been one oxygen tank. As hard as she’d tried to be there for Fitz as he’d recovered, she hadn’t been able to be what he needed her to be. As hard as she fought to reach him again, to understand what he’d meant to her, their single moment of clarity and hope had been cut short. As frantically as she’d fought against the monolith, it had still pulled her through the portal. As hard as she’d fought to find a way back home, as hard as she’d held onto hope, it had been for nothing. The bottle had missed the portal by less than a second. She’d had her heart broken, hurt Fitz and gotten Will killed because the bottle had missed the portal by _less than a second._ It wasn’t fair, nothing that had happened in the past year was fair and she needed it to stop. She needed Fitz back so that she could make this right again, but for every solution she found there were a dozen more problems that remained unsolved, taunting her.

Her hand seemed to move of its own accord, knocking a basket of beakers aside so that they smashed against the floor and she let out a cry of frustration, anger blazing before her fear returned to snuff it out and her legs failed her, forcing her to stumble back onto the stool. Supporting herself with one elbow on the desk, she she covered her eyes with her other hand, fighting back tears.

“I can’t do this,” she choked. _‘I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose Fitz too, not Fitz.’_

Her phone buzzed and she jumped, letting out a startled gasp before rising heavily to her feet to answer it. She couldn’t let herself hope it was good news, it would hurt too much when it wasn’t.

When she saw the name displayed on the screen however, her heart galloped in her chest and she snatched it up, fumbling to answer it.

“Fitz?” she squeaked.

Silence.

“Fitz?” Her voice rose in panic, a dozen terrible scenarios fighting their way to the front of her mind. “Fitz are you there? Are you hurt? Where-”

“Are you alone?” It wasn’t him. It was a strange man, deep voiced and clearly agitated.

She tensed, realizing this must be the Inhuman who’d kidnapped Fitz. “What have you done with him?” she demanded.

“Are you alone?” he repeated, ignoring her question.

He sounded desperate and that made her uneasy. He had Fitz, and if he were still alive he was probably hurt. If he were still alive and his brain was still intact, it probably wouldn’t be for long. In a split second, Jemma made her decision and, glancing around the lab to find it empty, she rose to her feet, moving away from the door and turning her head so the camera wouldn’t be able to record her face.

“Yes,” she told him quietly. “I’m alone.”

“You’re Jemma?” he grunted. She didn’t like him calling her by her first name, it sounded wrong and his voice made her teeth clench.

“I am,” she answered rigidly. “Where is Fitz?”

“I need you to fix him,” he told her.

She closed her eyes, the air stilling in her throat. _What had he done to him?_ “What do you mean?” she managed. “Have… have you hurt him?” Her words were gritty and she tried to swallow down the thorns in her throat, to focus, but she couldn’t stop herself from shaking.

“There’s so much pain in his head,” the man answered angrily. “He thinks you love someone else, he thinks he failed you. Fix it.”

He’d been in his head, but Fitz wasn’t dead. He must be alive if the man wanted to go back in. It made her sick to think of the state he must be in, of those tendrils wreaking havoc inside of him, but he was _alive_ and she knew that was what she needed to focus on right now.

 _Fix it._ She’d been trying to fix it for over a year and had failed at every turn, but if that was what it would take to stall this lunatic long enough to get him back she had to try.

“How?” she asked, steadier now.

He replied instantly. “I need something good. A good memory, it has to be strong. Better if it has a smell.”

A smell, that made sense. Many memories were tied to scent. Home could be freshly baked cookies, fun the smell of grass, but what did she and Fitz have? And if they did have something what would happen if she gave it to him? It seemed as if Coulson had been right, it was love that this man was after or at least the memories of it. When he could get what he needed from Fitz he’d kill him too, feed off of it until it destroyed his brain.

For several agonizing seconds, she had no idea what to do. She couldn’t come up blank though, not now, it was unacceptable. There had to be _something._

And then it came to her. A smell, a smell this man couldn’t get on his own.

“It’s a sandwich,” she told him.

“ _Oh_.” He didn’t sound surprised. “Of course. Yes. That should work. You need to bring it.”

He must have seen those memories. How long had he been slithering through Fitz’s head? She hated that he knew these things, they weren’t his they were theirs and she wanted to tell him to get his grubby paws off of them, to stop hurting Fitz to tease them out. Hot hatred oozed its way into her veins and she suddenly wanted to hurt him, she wanted to make sure this man could never touch Fitz or anyone else ever again.

Hatred wouldn’t help Fitz either though and stronger than that was her fear for him.

“I’ll bring it,” she promised. “Tell me where to meet you and I’ll bring it to you. Just… just let me talk to him.”

He didn’t reply.

_Why wouldn’t he let her speak to him? Was he unconscious? Was he unable to talk? Was he too weak to mumble a few words or had they been taken from him?_

“Please,” she begged, exposing her raw heart with that one desperate word. “I need to know he’s OK.”

There was a pause, then some shuffling and a feeble but wonderfully familiar voice sounded in her ear.

“Jemma?”

Exhaustion drained his greeting into a wheeze, but he was alive and he could talk and he was at least in part aware of his surroundings.

She breathed out his name, a sigh of relief. “Fitz…”

“Don’t give this slimy creep anything,” he said quickly. “He’s-”

“Fitz don’t,” she warned, afraid of him being cut off if he made too much of a fuss, of being hurt even more if he continued to insult his captor. “It’ll be OK, trust me.”

He shuddered out a long breath, miserable, frightened, and she wasn’t sure if he believed her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About what I said today. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Tears stung her eyes and she leaned into the phone, wishing she could fall through it to the other end of the line. “I know,” she assured him. “Me too.”

“I love you.” His words were simple and complex at once, sweet and sad, and she knew he wasn’t expecting her to return them. He wanted to make sure she knew, that she heard them one last time in case he didn’t get a chance to say them again.

She wasn’t giving up on him, this wasn’t goodbye but she needed him to know. “I love you too. Always.”

“I’ll see you soon Jemma,” she heard his smile even through the phone, heard that he knew how much she meant it and somehow it made the connection between them even stronger than it already was. It was as if a switch had been flicked and the lights had turned back on, the world between them bright and free of the final secrets the darkness had hidden. “And…” his smile faded from his words but his courage kept them solid. “And if I don’t… it’ll be OK.”

Her lip trembled and she shut her eyes tight, trying to banish the thing he was insinuating from her mind. “Fitz…” She didn’t want him saying these things.

“It won’t be your fault OK?” he went on stubbornly. “I chose to do this, for everyone. You have to know that Jemma, I need you to believe that. Please...” He trailed off, gulping in air as if speaking had transformed into an arduous labour.

Tears were streaming past her cheeks but she nodded jerkily, choking up a reply. “I know, you’re being so brave, you’re always so brave. I just need you to hold on a bit longer, because I won’t give up.”

“Neither will I,” he vowed, uniting them again. However far apart they were, whatever forces pulled them away from each other they were in this together.

“Satisfied?” It was the man again, he’d taken the phone back, cutting off their communication but not their connection. Never that.

“I won’t be satisfied until I have him back,” she said sharply. “But I’m ready to do what you’ve asked.”

“I think you’ve already been very helpful,” he praised, making the hair stand up on the back of her neck. “Once I have what I’ve asked for this will all be fixed and we can all get what we want.”

“I want Fitz back alive,” she snapped. “I want him back unharmed. Can you do that?”

She wasn’t expecting an answer and she was taken aback by his reply. “Maybe.”

“What does that mean?” she demanded, careful to keep her surprise hidden.

“I’m not trying to kill them,” he said slowly. Something in the way he spoke made her believe he was being honest with her, he didn’t sound angry anymore. He almost sounded sad but she found she couldn’t feel sorry for him, not when he’d already torn apart so many lives, not when he’d hurt her Fitz. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not,” she objected testily. “Just stop.”

“I can’t stop,” he said simply. “But maybe I can control it, do less damage. I’ve tried but they always die, even if it takes longer.”

 _Less damage. They always die._ His words weren’t at all comforting and she found her defiance was quickly waning. “I can’t lose him,” she whispered. “You must know that. You’ve… after what you’ve seen…,” She shuddered at the thought of _how_ he’d seen it. “After what you’ve seen you must know that.”

“He thinks you’ll be OK, eventually you’ll fill the hole it leaves,” the man answered.

“Well he’s wrong!” she burst. She’d move on, someday, as much as it would hurt, but she’d never fill a hole that large and she didn’t want to. “Weren’t you paying attention? When you… when you were looking through his memories? Didn’t you see _him?_ ”

He didn’t reply but she heard him breathing and she knew he was still listening.

“Didn’t you see how incredible he is? How kind? How brilliant? Didn’t you see all the things he’s done for people?” she pressed. “Can’t you understand how special he is? The world needs him in it, it can’t lose him now.” She wasn’t sure if she could reach this stranger, who’d already shed so much innocent blood, but she had to try.

He sighed wearily. “They’re all special.” There was a pause and his voice hardened. “Meet me at the park in two hours. Come alone. Bring the sandwich or I'll put a bullet through his heart. Can you do that?”

Her own heart clenched at the blunt threat, but she wasn’t finished yet. She could still save him.

“I’ll be there.”

With a click as he ended the call.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dum dum dum! He wanted the sandwich. Are you surprised?
> 
> Thanks to notapepper for being my beta :D You rock.
> 
> Fun fact: the man will not shoot Fitz in the head, even if he plans to kill him. This is because the head is his source of "joy" and he can't bring himself to damage it. Except of course when he's using those tentacle things.


	9. Watch

Jemma packed her bag in Fitz's room, one of the only places on the base she felt relatively sure wasn't being monitored. Fitz had done a thorough check of the room for listening devices or hidden cameras long ago and he'd checked it again recently, she suspected shortly after the first time they'd been together. He'd been being paranoid, she knew, but she understood his desire for privacy, even more so after her conversation with the Inhuman. Some things were meant to be kept between the two of them.

Like the sandwich she now tucked, safely wrapped in paper, into her bag. Their friends knew that it was his favourite, that she'd made it for him on several occasions, but only she and Fitz truly understood what it stood for. At least until that monster had dug his way into his brain.

A fresh burst of rage shot up her throat at the thought of what had been done to him, how much pain he'd been put through, how violated he'd been. She knew how much the idea of someone messing with his head frightened him, especially after what Ward had done to him and he'd never been comfortable exposing himself to strangers. What this man had done to him, and so many others before, hurting them like this, _killing them_ in this terrible way, was despicable. He needed to be stopped.

She glanced at her watch, twenty minutes and she'd need to be on her way to the meeting point. She'd planned to arrive early, just in case, and she was already nearly finished packing what she'd need. Just under the sandwich, in a pouch to conceal it, she'd taken an ICER and six cartridges filled with the new toxin along with several rounds of their regular dendrotoxin. The new toxin was what was currently loaded. If the Inhuman had Fitz in his grasp by the time she reached him, she wasn't going to waste time fumbling around.

Embedded in the sandwich itself, beneath the thin layer of pesto aioli, was a micro tracker, so small it could be mistaken for a stray fleck of pepper but reliable enough to send a signal from anywhere within fifty kilometers. When she'd spoken with him on the phone the man had sounded desperate to get what he needed from Fitz and she was beginning to think he'd developed some form of dependency on the release of hormones and emotions he obtained from his victims. If that were true, he was going to be reckless, easy to track and once she had a clear shot she'd hit him with the new toxin- or the old dendrotoxin if she had the time. It was going to be dangerous, there was no doubt about that, but he was going to be sloppy and she knew could use that to her advantage. Besides there was no danger she wouldn't face to get Fitz back safely. Even if she needed to face it alone.

She'd debated with herself whether or not she should involve the rest of the team in her plan, if it would be safer for both of them if she did, but she'd found she still didn't trust her leader's judgment. The man had told her to come alone and while she was pretty sure he wouldn't kill Fitz before getting what he wanted from him, she wasn't willing to risk it. Coulson might be though, and that scared her enough to keep this a secret, even from Bobbi, unwilling to gamble that the other agent would follow along with her mutiny. She was doing this, and she was doing it without their help. It was best chance she had at getting Fitz back safely. Later she'd have time to ponder on what that meant about her current faith in the people she worked for, but for now she needed to focus on slipping out of the base unnoticed.

When this was over she could face the confusing mess in her head, and Coulson's wrath but right now she was saving the man she loved, whatever the cost.

/-/-/

The Inhuman had left Fitz alone in the dark, bound tightly to the hard wooden chair, and his head was still pounding although as far as he could tell he'd been left completely functional. The moment the cellar door had closed he'd gone through every test he could think of to ensure that no damage had been done, recalling events as far back as he was able, solving the most difficult equations he could come up with and verbally running through his vocabulary until he felt satisfied that nothing had been knocked out of him. Without another person to double check with, he couldn't be entirely sure, but it was enough to lift some of the fear that had been bearing down on him.

Next he ran through his memories of Jemma, the good ones, playing them one at a time in as much detail as he could manage, desperately hoping that he wouldn't find them tainted with pain or with the alien emotions that had invaded his mind when the tendrils had been burrowing their way through it. He was almost more relieved than he'd been a moment ago, to find that they were all perfectly fine. Their time together hadn't been taken from him, his love remained uninfected, and he let out a shaky sigh, another burden lifted.

He turned his attention to the present, looking around for a way to escape as he tried to piece together what was happening from his conversation with Jemma and what he'd heard from his side of her conversation with his kidnapper.

Jemma was giving the Inhuman something, a sandwich, but it didn't sound as if he planned on taking her, a realization he took great solace in. He _hated_ that he'd allowed those memories to slide into his filthy hands, that he knew what the sandwich meant, but at least that was all he was after. Whatever happened, they could make new memories and they had dozens of others that had been left in peace for her should he not make it out of this, but there would only ever be one Jemma.

She was putting herself in danger though. _I won't give up._ Her words, boldened by her determination echoed in his ears and he knew her well enough to know she had a plan. He couldn't stop her from trying to come get him, the same way she wouldn't have been able to stop him from coming for her, but he could find some way to make it easier for her once she'd set whatever she had in mind into motion.

"I won't give up either," he mumbled.

/-/-/

The man had actually had very little contact with her during the exchange. The moment she'd given him the sandwich and he'd checked to ensure it had been the right one, he'd been off. He hadn't looked directly at her once.

She wondered if it hurt the illusion he created, leaching off people's memories of their lovers, if he met the lover himself and found that they hated him for what he'd done. The scowl on her face and the fury that flashed across it when she'd caught sight of the blood on his hands, wouldn't have matched up very well with the soft, embracing emotion he must be seeing through Fitz.

Once his car had pulled away, she waited five minutes and then began her pursuit, her tracker pulsing red on the map displayed on her tablet, which was clipped to the dashboard.

The house he led her too was old and run down but it didn't stand out too much from the houses surrounding it. The lawn was haphazardly mown and pots near the door sprouted cheerful white flowers. There was even a little red mailbox at the end of the driveway, which would have been sweet if she hadn't know who lived there.

She parked the car across the street, pausing for a moment while she decided what to do next. Going in through the front door was out of the question, even if it weren't locked he'd be alerted to her presence straight away when she opened it and she doubted he'd fall for a friendly knock. She was going to need to find another way in.

Leaning back in her seat, she took in a long breath, wondering if she'd made a mistake in not attempting to recruit Bobbi for this. She had no idea where he was, or where he was keeping Fitz and the layout of the house was a mystery to her. What if she broke in onto the wrong floor and the Inhuman panicked and killed him before she could reach him?

The thought left her stomach in knots and she was desperately racking her brain for a solution when her tablet jolted her upright with a short beep. She frowned, seeing the message displayed on the screen. One of the DWARFs was recording something. How though? All seven of them were safely in their case back at the base. Except….

Except there weren't seven of them.

Heart in her throat, she scrambled to stream the footage, praying it was what she thought it was.

/-/-/

Fitz fought against his bounds but it was no use. Other than straining his already sore wrists and ankles, it was getting him nowhere.

He tried again to wiggle the chair, throwing his weight from side to side, but it was solid and whatever was attaching it to the floor beneath his feet wasn't budging either. There was a screwdriver hanging on the wall, just a few feet away, but he had no hope of reaching it.

' _If only I had the monkey assistant I've been asking for, I'd be out of here by now,'_ he joked to himself, doing his best to ignore the cold hard dread solidifying in his core. When the man came back, when he went into his head a second time, he was not going to stop until he got what he wanted… or he'd killed him.

 _If only I'd let Jemma put that tracker under my skin._ Why had he been so squeamish? Why had he worked so hard to convince her that nothing was going to happen? _I should have known better, something always happens._ Whether it was being dropped into the ocean, swept off by some shapeshifting boulder to a faraway planet or running into the one telepathic Inhuman who could kill off all their guards, the odds were always stacked against them. He should have known better than to stack them higher.

He couldn't panic though, Jemma was coming and as much as that added to his terror it also comforted him, fueled his resolve to find a way out.

A car pulled into the driveway and he winced at the sound of the door slamming shut. He was running out of time and he had no way of reaching anything he could use to free himself. If only he could have told Jemma more over the phone, given her a hint as to where he was, but how could he with that monster glaring down on him? Listening to his every word, watching his every move….

 _Watching._ That was it. He _could_ still send Jemma a message, and he wouldn't have to say a thing.

Footsteps up the front steps. He needed to hurry.

Squirming again, he did his best to drag his left pocket across the post holding up the hand rest, contorting his body to reach, biting his lip in concentration as he felt the lump in his pocket catch onto the post and then be pushed out until it clacked onto the floor.

The sound of the front door opening, heavy feet creaking the wooden floor.

"C'mon," he muttered, chest tight as he urged on the tiny object that had fallen to the ground. "Wake up you lazy little thing."

The drone glowed, then rose up a few feet in the air before soundlessly vanishing. Fitz couldn't see it anymore, and he couldn't hear it, but it was watching him, streaming footage of the basement back home, back to Jemma.

He couldn't help the smug smile that pulled up his mouth. "Hi ho, hi ho," he sang triumphantly under his breath. "Off to work you go."

The door to the basement opened with a _thud_ and he snapped his jaw shut, his fear returning in a rush though he plastered a hard scowl onto his face to hide it.

"I hope you're planning on sharing that," he said snidely, spotting the neatly wrapped parcel in the man's hands as he thumped down the steps. "Because I'm bloody starving and I don't want to risk nibbling on whatever slimy leftovers you have rotting upstairs."

He placed the sandwich on a workbench, ignoring him as he opened a drawer and Fitz's stomach grumbled as the sweet aroma made it's way through the stench. Already he couldn't help thinking of Jemma, remembering another sandwich, wrapped with a note and he shook his head, trying to push the memory away.

If he was going to die, he wasn't going to give this bastard the satisfaction of getting what he wanted first.

"Your girlfriend is very cooperative," he taunted, back still turned.

Fitz prickled at the mention of the exchange, worry making him angry. "You better not have hurt her when you snatched that from her," he growled. "If you touched her I'll-"

"You'll what?" the man demanded coolly, fishing out the roll of duct tape and tearing off a long strip. "You can't do anything to me, you're helpless."

Fitz glared at him, hating him, but it was true. "Just… just tell me she's alright," he muttered between his teeth.

"She's fine," he assured him, staring him down as he pinned the strip of tape across his mouth. Fitz kept his gaze, searching for a lie but he didn't find one. "I promise you I didn't hurt her. She's going to be just fine and I won't go after her when you're gone."

The only reason for the reassurance was so that Fitz's memories wouldn't be saturated with his fear for her, but he was grateful for it anyway.

However the man's plans might change if he caught of glimpse of Fitz's certainty that Jemma was coming for him. He was going to have to stall him as long as possible, keep him away from that secret. His stomach lurched as he realized the best way to do that would be to give him what he wanted. If he was busy, satisfying himself with those thoughts, he wouldn't need to dig for anything else.

"Ready?" the man asked, flexing his fingers in front of him.

' _How is it you'll have been inside my head twice now and I don't even know you're name?'_ Fitz thought hotly. ' _Rude.'_

Despite his efforts, his captor must have seen the fear in his eyes though because he leaned closer, giving his a head a small shake that might have been in sympathy. "It doesn't have to hurt as much as it did the first time," he told him. "Just let go. You'll get to see her again. I can make the memories very… vivid. And if you stop fighting me so much you might not even notice I'm there."

' _Let go,'_ Fitz reminded himself, doing his best not to flinch when he felt the man's thick fingers poke at the wounds on the side of his head. He couldn't keep in the whimper that escaped him when the tendrils began worming their way back in. ' _Let go. Don't let him see what you know. Let him go where he wants to. Let go. Let go. Let go….'_

The room faded again and this time it really didn't hurt as much as it had before. All he felt was a dull, aching pressure, and then he was in a dance hall, watching Jemma's face aglow with the swirling white lights, her eyes sparkling. His heart swelled in his chest, singing with love as she reached out her hand for him to take it, and her fingers were warm and familiar between his as she led him towards the music.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're probably wondering if the guy really does have slimy leftovers in his fridge. He does not, he keeps it well stocked with fresh food :) 
> 
> Super thanks to notapepper for betaing :) You're the best. 
> 
> Stealthy ftw :D right?


	10. Woman on Fire

Jemma let out a strangled gasp when she saw Fitz appear on the monitor, her heart squeezing as if someone were trying to crush it. His injuries seemed minor, at least on the surface, a pair of tiny holes on either side of his head. Those holes, however, made tangible the horror of what he'd just been subjected to. They, along with his ashen face and hair matted with sweat, were an achingly visible reminder of what the man had done to him, of what he was about to do again.

She'd been able to autopsy the other victims without stepping away, been able to swallow down the evil and the loss she was was seeing in front of her but seeing Fitz like this, _knowing_ what had happened to him, made her sick to her stomach.

' _Concentrate,'_ she told herself, resisting the urge to leap from the car immediately. ' _Figure out where he is.'_

Unclipping the tablet from the dashboard, she scrambled to turn on the drone's location display, allowing herself a quick smile when she saw Stealthy, a tiny red dot, only a few yards away.

"Oh Fitz," she mumbled proudly. _Of course he'd found a way to lead her to him, of course he'd know she was coming._

There were a million reasons for her to wait, to call for backup, why a lone, untrained agent shouldn't be breaking into to a dangerous Inhuman's home but none of those reasons meant a thing when the light flickered on in the basement and she saw Fitz look up towards what must have been a door, his eyes widening in terror. It only lasted a moment, before he was hiding it again, glowering like an angry lion, but a glimpse had been all she needed to see to understand how frightened he was of what was about to happen. She couldn't sit in the car and watch him suffer through this nightmare, she needed to act now. Once again her body seemed to move of its own accord and she'd bolted out, grabbing the tablet and her backpack, fumbling to take out the ICER as she ran towards the tiny red dot on her screen.

He was in a basement, she knew that from the video that had been streaming of him and because the beacon from Stealthy indicated that he was below the ground. It led her to a grimy window, too filthy to see in through, but also too caked in dirt for anyone inside to see her approach. Fitz was right behind that window, about to have his mind toyed with for the second time that day and she didn't have time to think about the potential consequences when she slid to the ground and smashed through the glass with both feet, sliding in over broken, jagged pieces that cut at her skin.

She had just enough time for Fitz, already in the grip of that monster, to turn his head, to feel the shallow cuts stinging her arms and back, too see the look of relief mingled with his worry that flashed across his face, before there was a sudden sharp pain in her shoulder. Something pointed and fast collided with it, sending her flying backwards before embedding itself into the concrete wall behind her, stuck through her flesh like a skewer through meat.

Fitz let out a muffled shout as a scream tore itself from her throat and her hand flew up instinctively, wrapping around the metal rod and trying in vain to pull it out. Jostling it sent jolts of pain crackling around it and she whimpered, breathing heavily as she tried to reorient herself, figure out what was happening.

A long, metal rod had her pinned to the wall and she followed the path where it had come from with her eyes to see some sort of launching machine, very rudimentary but powerful enough that if the rod had strayed a bit further to the left it would have pierced right through her chest. Broken glass littered the workbench it was perched on, as well as the floor around it and and half of a stack of bottles remained between it and her. It had probably been hidden behind them this entire time, well enough that Fitz hadn't been able to see it. If he had he'd never have led her there. Neither of them had expected the man to have enough foresight to set a trap. Clearly underestimating him had been a critical mistake.

Gritting her teeth, she tried again to move the rod but it wouldn't budge. Fitz was struggling with all his might against his bounds, his shouts rendered incomprehensible by the tape over his mouth but she didn't need words to understand what he was thinking right now. She was thinking the exact same thing, that she needed to free herself, that she couldn't let them both die here.

"Put that in after the third one almost escaped," the man told her wistfully, he'd taken his hands away from Fitz in the commotion, bloody tendrils sliding back into his fingertips. "I never thought it would stop someone trying to get _in._ " He stepped towards her but paused when Fitz let out a screech, shaking the chair so hard it rattled beneath him. His face had turned from grey to red and his eyes were ablaze. "I'm not going to hurt her," he promised, he gave her a quick glance before turning back to him. "And she should be alright as long as she doesn't move around too much. I'll take her to a hospital as soon as I'm finished with you OK? You don't need to worry about her."

' _He doesn't want the memories tainted,'_ she realized. ' _But he's lying. He can't leave me alive now that I've seen him. Now that I know where he lives.'_

Fitz must have known it too because he continued his attempts to free himself, twisting his wrists against the tape, but it was useless.

"Calm down," the man urged. He started towards him, eyeing him hungrily, white tendrils already snaking out the tips of his fingers. "Let me in again, I'll make us both see something better."

"Don't!" Jemma shrieked.

"Shut up," he growled, ignoring her plea and touching his fingers to the wounds on Fitz's temples. "Let me concentrate and maybe I won't kill him."

He was delusional if he believed he could keep Fitz alive as he burrowed those things into his head. He was going to kill him if she didn't do something, she had to act now.

Jaw clenched tightly, she took a sharp deep breath through her nose, steeling herself for what she was about to do. Then, before she could flinch away from it, she pushed herself off from the wall in one swift, powerful motion, using her foot and her uninjured arm together to force her body forward and her shoulder through the metal pole, wrenching herself free from it. It was agony and the moment she stumbled forward onto her knees she felt the blood torrenting out of her, leaving her head spinning, but her veins were filled with adrenaline and it gave her enough strength to reach for the ICER which had slid only a couple of feet away, take aim, and hit the man twice in the back.

The impact knocked him into Fitz who let out a grunt of surprise before he slid off of him, crumpling unconscious onto the floor.

She was growing weaker, her body begging for her to stop, but she needed to free Fitz or they'd still be doomed. The man's powers were gone but without help she knew she didn't have very long and she didn't want to think about what his rage would make him do to Fitz when he woke up.

Struggling forward, she found a pair of scissors on a shelf by the wall and mustered the rest of her strength to limp over to Fitz and cut the tape away from his arm. The moment it was free her legs gave out underneath her and she fell forward, clutching at his knee for support as he unbound himself and tore the tape from his mouth.

As soon as he was free he was lifting her up to her feet and helping her away from the Inhuman, towards the backpack she'd dropped when she'd been pinned.

"There's…. there's a phone," she said weakly, wincing at the pain in her shoulder when he set her down again, allowing her to sit, leaning against the wall as he searched for it. "No one knows we're here. Fitz… you have to…"

"I'm calling for help," he assured her, briefly touching her cheek before dialing the number. "You just focus on staying awake."

Of course he knew what to do. It was going to be fine. She listened as he spoke to Bobbi, reaching for the tablet to turn on a distress beacon.

"Bring a medical team," he demanded urgently. "And hurry up."

As soon as he'd set the phone down he was at her side, slipping off his jacket and pulling apart the slieve to create a makeshift tourniquet.

"I liked that jacket," she mumbled hazily. It was nice, brought out his eyes, and she'd stolen it more than once on a cold evening walk.

"I can get another one," he answered distractedly. "Let's get that to stop bleeding first shall we?"

He lifted her up, shifting her weight onto his chest, keeping her injured shoulder clear. Then, with more care than she'd seen him use disarming a bomb, he positioned the fabric around the wound. Despite his efforts, the movement shot bolts of pain up into her neck and she sucked in a breath between her teeth, gripping his shirt when he tied a tight knot, pressing it into the exposed flesh. Her fingers dug in when he doubled the knot and he kissed the side of her head, murmuring an apology even though it wasn't his fault.

"It's OK," he promised. "They're coming, you'll be OK. You saved us Jemma," he added proudly. "You were so brave."

She felt like a crash test dummy, heavy and bashed up in his arms, but she also felt washed over with warmth at his praise and she believed him when he said it was going to be OK. There was no place in the world safer than with Fitz.

"I thought we weren't getting hurt for each other anymore," he teased, making the corners of her mouth twitch up in a small smile.

"Perhaps we could take turns," she mused breathlessly. Her face was pressed into his shirt now and beneath the heavy scent of blood and sweat, he smelled like home. "Or next time… just take the bloody tracker."

She shut her eyes, trying to settle her queasy stomach. It was a bit like being on a ride at an amusement park, except she wasn't moving and she was very, very tired.

"I always knew… was you," she mumbled. Her words were faint and close to being incoherent, but she found herself needing to dredge them up, to communicate what was in her head before she lost her chance again. "Before… the… the helicarrier…" She swallowed, trying to soothe her dry, aching throat.

"Shh, shh, shh," Fitz hushed, gently painting the tips of his fingers down the side of her cheek. The contact made her wish she could move to return it, but it was comforting all the same. "We can talk about it after, you need to save your strength."

' _Don't tell me to shush,'_ she thought, irritable from the pain and waves of nausea, although she understood his concern. ' _I'm not going to die if I use up a few breaths to tell you what I've needed to say for almost a year. I'm not waiting another second for some rock to swallow me again or for another lunatic to take you away.'_

"I chose… you," she went on stubbornly, slowing down so that she could be sure to pronounce each syllable. "... before. I chose you before… the helicarrier, and… on Maveth it was you I was going back to…"

Lifting her head, she managed to look up at him, locking onto his bright gaze. He still seemed concerned but he was listening, and that was what really mattered. He was there and he could hear her and he was paying attention to what she was trying to say. So help her if the universe decided to interfere now.

"I gave up," she whispered miserable. "And I'm sorry for that… I didn't know… I thought…"

"It's OK," he assured her, his fingers moving up to comb through the hair above her ear. "You don't need to apologize for anything. I understand. You did everything you could and I'm proud of you."

His acceptance was exactly what she was expecting but it still made her heart lighter to hear him say it aloud, that he'd said he was proud. He was wrong though, he didn't understand.

"I didn't give up because I didn't want you anymore," she told him. "I gave up because… I knew I'd…" she paused, catching her breath and he waited patiently, thankfully having abandoned his efforts to convince her to stop. "I knew I'd want you every second of the rest of my life, and… and I thought it wouldn't hurt as much if… if I accepted that I couldn't have you." Thinking about the moment the bottle had shattered into the sand was more painful than her injury and she shook her head, lip trembling. "Then you found me," she squeaked. "And I still couldn't have you… not really. I knew after what had happened it wouldn't be fair to either of you… even though I already knew I loved you. We needed to fix the mess I'd made first…"

"None of that was your fault," he asserted firmly. His eyes shone, tears glistening on his cheeks, but he frowned at her last sentence, shaking his head.

' _I left Will there instead of fighting It with him,'_ she thought miserably. ' _Of course it was my fault.'_ That wasn't what she was trying to tell him now though, and she didn't want to get off topic, not when it was such a strain to get her words out.

"It was you that I wanted," she continued, as clearly as she was able. "I chose you… before Maveth, on Maveth, and after Maveth. And I…. choose…. you... now." She took a few breath, realizing that she wasn't going to be able to say much more. "I choose _you."_ she repeated resolutely. "I love you, always, and… and I… I want to be with _you…._ always…"

Her head felt incredibly heavy but she fought to hold it up just a few seconds longer, watching his reaction to what she was saying. The sides of his face were streaked with tears but his eyes were soft and he was smiling down at her in wonder.

For what felt like an eternity he seemed unable to reply and it was only when she lost her battle with her exhaustion and dropped her head onto his chest that she felt him taking in a shaky breath.

"Well that's good then," he told her, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head and the rest of it was murmured into her hair. It ruffled against her scalp as he took a long breath in through his nose, and she wondered for the first time if _she_ smelled like home too. "Because I don't ever want to be without you."

She chuckled weakly, eyes closing as she gave a tiny nod. ' _It's a deal then.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is based off the title Fitz got at the start of this season "Man on Fire". Not sure who coined the term, but I saw it pop up a few times :P
> 
> Thank you to notapepper for betaing this chapter :D Keeping it all nice and clean.


	11. Aftermath

Jemma stood in front of the quiet window at the end of the hall, watching the drops of rain pelt the glass, rolling down against the backdrop of pale grey sky. The sun wasn't visible but its light was still shining through the layer of clouds, muted but still far more luminous than the endless night she'd been subjected to for all those months. The night the man who'd saved her would never live to see the end of.

She hadn't needed to stay in the hospital, but she'd been told to allow her body time to heal itself over the next few weeks, which meant not going back to work right away. The strict warning had reminded her of Trip, of his injury that had never been allowed to heal because he'd gone into the field with it anyhow and died for his courage. Another face she'd never see again, another life stolen from the world.

No one could bring them back, nor could anyone revive the countless other lives that had been taken by the Inhuman, whose name they now knew was John McClennan. He'd had a family too, before his transformation, he'd been engaged but his fiancee had left him shortly after he'd told her what had happened to him. Maybe that should have made her feel sorry for him, but she couldn't will herself to feel anything beyond disgust for the things he had done.

Still, she was glad she hadn't needed to kill him. And she was glad that now he couldn't kill anyone else. Fitz was safe, or as safe as any of them ever were, out in the field with Bobbi collecting samples from the newest case. He hadn't sustained any permanent damage and his injuries were healing themselves without any problems. He was well enough to be home too, and he insisted on sleeping on a matress on the floor of their room, unwilling to be separated from her but frightened of sharing a bed in case he rolled onto her as they slept and aggravated her shoulder.

The other night he'd woken her, muttering fearfully in his sleep, and she'd lifted her head to see him grimacing at whatever nightmare was tormenting him. He'd probably never admit how shaken the experience had left him, but he didn't need to say anything for her to understand he'd been hurt beyond his physical injuries. She'd left the bed to sit beside him, taking his hand and running her fingers through his curls, murmuring reassurances until his face relaxed and his breathing became calm and regular again. Then, still holding onto his hand, she'd pulled down her pillow and eased herself onto her back beside him on the mattress. Neither of them rolled in their sleep for the rest of the night.

Much like the sun though, love seemed to shine on even through the clouds and their world was filled with beams of happiness. Between the chaos of their day to day life they had time for a board game or a slow, sweet kiss when they thought they were alone. She'd made him dinner, eaten by candlelight in the kitchen which Bobbi and Hunter had cleared for the occasion and he'd sung a song for her on karaoke night that still made her heart flutter to think about. He wasn't going to sell any records, but he did have a lovely voice. It was her favourite sound in the world actually. Life was short, and love could hurt, but both of them could be filled with light as well.

Footsteps sounded behind her and she saw Daisy appear at her side from the corner of her eye, staring out with her.

"Do you think the sun will come out any time soon?" she mused, nodding her head towards the window.

' _It's already out_ ,' Jemma thought. "The rain isn't supposed to clear up until this evening," she answered, addressing her friend's true question. "Weather predictions aren't usually very reliable for extended periods, but within forty eight hours they can be very accurate. It shouldn't interfere with our teams return though."

"Are you worried about Fitz?" she asked.

Jemma shook her head. "He'll be back in a few hours."

For a while, they watched the rain in silence.

"Mr. McClennan can't use his powers anymore," Daisy said finally. Her words were impassive but Jemma knew the statement was anything but casual.

"I know," she replied evenly.

Daisy blew out a breath, arms crossing. "Lincoln was furious," she told her, still matter-of-factly. _Lincoln, was furious._ Jemman noted she hadn't said _I was furious._

Neither of them had turned to face each other. "I crossed a line," Jemma admitted.

"But you're not sorry you did," Daisy added.

Jemma shook her head. "I did what I needed to do." Her gaze drifted to her friend, watching her face for a hint at what she was thinking. "I have no intention of doing it again."

Their eyes met briefly and Daisy's mouth rose up in a small smile. "I know. You were just trying to get your guy back, and to stop him from hurting people." She paused before adding wistfully, "My mother wouldn't have let John McClennan go through the mist. I'm not saying I agree with her methods," she clarified quickly, eyes widening at the thought as she shook her head. "And I'm not saying we should be taking people's powers away just because they aren't perfect."

"I have no intention of taking anyone's powers away," Jemma agreed swiftly. "I don't think that's the answer to this."

"But Mr. McClennan was killing people," Daisy continued, nodding to acknowledge what Jemma had said. "He wasn't just an Inhuman, he was a serial killer. Someone need to stop him." Her face fell and she turned towards her again, eyes bright. "And I'm sick of always almost losing you two," she told her, her calm giving way to watery concern. "You mean a lot to me."

Jemma smiled, raising her good arm to give Daisy's shoulder a squeeze. "You mean a lot to us too. I hope you know that, even if I wasn't as supportive as Fitz was after your transformation…" she frowned trailing off unhappily at the memory.

But Daisy was shaking her head. "You were both in my corner the whole time. You both wanted what was best for me." She chuckled. "Maybe you were wrong sometimes, but so was I and it was… nice… that you cared enough to make mistakes."

That made Jemma smile again, warmed by the bond the three of them still shared. Time and heartache hadn't been able to pry it from them and for that she was incredibly grateful.

"My mother left us with a pretty big mess to clean up," Daisy sighed, after another minute of peaceful quiet had slipped by. She sounded worn down, but not defeated. They had all been through a lot, were still going through so much, but none of them had given up yet.

"And we'll find a way to fix it," Jemma said firmly. "We'll find a real solution together."

/-/-/

Fitz had another nightmare a few nights later. By now she'd convinced him to sleep in the bed, assuring him that she was healing well and a stray arm wasn't going to do her any harm so he'd been close by when it started getting bad, waking her up to a terrified ' _No.'_

His breaths were quick and shallow and when she opened her eyes she saw that his features were contorted into a grimace. "No… stop…. _stop_." His fear sent cracks through her bones and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep with him like this. How could she sleep when her Fitz was in pain?

It was better to let him ride it out so that he could go on sleeping, she knew that, but it tore at her to watch him suffer when he should have been safe. This was supposed to be their home and yet even here they'd both been followed by the terrible things that had happened to them. It wasn't fair.

She held out as long as she could, gripping onto the sheet to stop herself from reaching out to him, but when he whimpered and mumbled what sounded a lot like her name, her resolve shattered.

Sitting up, she curled her fingers around his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "Fitz," she whispered. "Wake up love. Wake up. It's not real, it's OK."

He gasped, eyes bright with terror when they flew open, falling on her when she lowered her hand to stroke his cheek, repeating the motion in what she hoped was a slow, calming pattern and steadily keeping his gaze as he reoriented himself.

"You're OK," she promised softly. Touching him was like running her fingers across a thunder cloud, as full of lightning as he was, he was vapour in the air, in danger of being shredded by the wind. But he was also light and energy and more precious and powerful than anyone could imagine. "You're back at the base," she soothed. "It's just me and you here, you're safe."

Blinking, his eyes cleared, darkening with sorrow and his hand came up to cover hers, bringing it with him as he sat up.

"I… I didn't hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

She shook her head, taking his face between her palms and planting a gently kiss above his eyes. "No. No, you didn't." If people had souls, his was gold and silver. It must have been a wondrous sight, the glimpses of it she caught were enough to dazzle her.

He nodded absently, his thumb rubbing back and forth across her knuckles. "OK. OK, good." He wasn't looking at her anymore.

She carefully lifted his head, cradling it between her hands as if she were holding the universe. "Fitz, it's OK to be frightened, it doesn't make us weak." He sniffed, nodding under her touch. "I was scared too," she went on gently. "I _am_ scared too, but it's OK. We're here, and we're together, and we're going to get through this. But you're allowed to be frightened."

At last he moved his eyes to meet hers, tears finding their way onto his eyelashes. "He was inside my head," he whispered, horrified. "I couldn't make him leave, I thought he was going to…." He shut his mouth, lip trembling and she shifted forward to pull him into a one armed embrace, allowing his forehead to bury into her uninjured shoulder as her other hand moved to rub circles onto his back.

"Oh Fitz," she breathed. She knew why he was so afraid and his quiet, trembling sobs, made her hate what had been done to him all the more vehemently. Her only consolation was that the man who'd done it could never do it to anyone else ever again. Fitz and everyone else were safe from him forever. "He can't hurt you anymore," she promised. "You're OK. He didn't do any damage."

It was only after a minute or two had passed, her gentle reassurances flowing over him, that he calmed down, beginning to breath evenly again.

"Do you still want to do this?" he asked, hesitant, as if the question itself frightened him.

' _Yes.'_ She thought. ' _But I'll leave with you if that's what you want.'_ "Do you?" she asked.

He moved away, absently weaving his fingers between hers and staring down at the ruffled sheets. For a long time he sat still, bright eyes filled with indecision. Then, very slowly, he nodded. "I do," he answered. "But… but I just need... "

"Time," she finished, certain she'd guessed his thoughts when their eyes met and she saw his relief.

"Yeah." He bobbed his head in a nodd. "I need time. I know it's not fair, people need us-"

"It is fair," she asserted, giving his hand a squeeze. "They need us strong and I can't keep doing this either."

"Do you want to leave?" he asked, his concern shifting to her in an instant. "Because if you do I'll come with you. We don't need to come back."

"I want to come back," she told him. His eyebrows knit together, confused so she continued. "I know that sounds unbelievable, after everything that's happened to us… wanting to come back to it all but…" She paused, formulating the thought into words. "I was so frightened, when he took you. I thought I was helpless. But I wasn't. I was able to _do something_ about it Fitz. I was able to save you. All the other women before me, who had people they loved taken away, they couldn't but I _could._ I realized that I- that _we_ can stop these things and…" She shrugged, lips curving up in a small smile. "And I want to. If I can save just one person from feeling the way we've felt, being terrified, heartbroken or in pain, then I think it's my responsibility to try. I _want_ to try."

Fitz smiled, brushing her hair aside before cupping her cheek and she leaned into his touch, guessing his reply a heartbeat before he spoke.

"We always were twice as smart together," he noted warmly. "I think we should stay too. Besides what would SHIELD do without our inventions?"

Jemma scoffed. "They'd probably still be using a crude version of or ICERs. Or worse, tranquilizers."

"And they wouldn't have our odourless trackers-"

"Or the mousehole-"

"I'm sure they'd be much less advanced in their research on Inhumans-"

The pair shook their heads. "Clearly they need us here," Fitz decided.

She chuckled, affectionately butting her forehead against his shoulder, settling into him when his arms came up to carefully wrap around her. "Just remember that I need you too," she reminded him, sobering for a moment.

He kissed the top of her head, breathing her in before nuzzling her hair with his cheek. "So long as you remember that I need _you_ ," he agreed.

/-/-/

Coulson was alone in his office when Jemma tapped on the door. He looked up from a stack of paperwork, raising his eyebrows.

"Did you need something?"

She debated shutting the door behind her, but there was no one outside in the hall and besides she didn't care if this conversation remained private or not.

"I'd like to request time off for Fitz and I," she told him resolutely.

"Didn't you just take a long weekend?" he asked, head tilting slightly in confusion. He looked distracted, as if he were only halfway paying attention their conversation and she felt a prickle of annoyance.

"We'd like a bit longer than a weekend," she pressed.

His gaze had already drifted back to the papers on his desk. "Jemma we can't really afford for you to take a week-"

"We'd like to take three months," she said flatly.

This got his attention, his head snapping up as his features settled into a deep frown. "Excuse me?"

"Fitz and I have been through alot this past year," she went on, staring adamantly back at him. "We need time to sort through it all."

"Jemma we've all been through a lot," he answered, sounding at least sympathetic although she also thought he also sounded a bit patronizing. "But I can't afford to lose you and Fitz for so long."

"You seem to have done just fine when I was on Maveth," she objected, unable to keep the chill out of her voice. "And when Fitz was recovering, you said yourself you thought he'd never be able to work the way he did again. You _have_ lost us, for longer than three months, and you were perfectly capable of dealing with things on your own."

"Neither of you were meant to hear that-" he tried to apologize but her mouth twitched and something in her eyes must have shown how angry she still was about the night Fitz was taken because he fell silent.

They stared each other down, neither willing to look away and the silence stretched uncomfortably.

"You're asking for a lot," he said at last.

"We've given a lot," she countered.

"You also went behind my back," he reminded her.

Her eyes narrowed. "I did what I needed to to get Fitz back after the trap you let him walk into." Her anger flared up again, furious that he was choosing to focus on her one act of defiance rather than their years of sacrifice and loyalty. "And I don't ever want you using our relationship like that again."

"It was necessary," he defended evenly.

"It was reckless!" she snapped, losing her composure. "You let Fitz throw himself to the wolves! You practically pushed him into it! And you were so busy chasing down Hydra that you couldn't even give him proper protection! He was unarmed, using himself as _bait_ for a dangerous Inhuman. You should have had at least two agents protecting him. We risk our lives, for you and for everyone else but if you want us to continue putting ourselves in danger you need to at least be sure to have our backs!"

Still, much to her outrage, he remained unconvinced. "Jemma I-"

"We'll leave," she told him, and she saw in his eyes that he could tell she meant that. "We'll leave SHIELD and we won't come back. I want to keep fighting for the greater good, but not if it means losing him- or myself- because you can't take care of your agents. We'll find another way to keep fighting."

"And Fitz feels the same way?" he asked, his expression unreadable as he looked her over, probably wondering why he wasn't there with her.

"I've discussed it with him, yes," she answered, leaning back and crossing her arms across her chest. "He's asleep, he had a terrible headache- after effects of having someone else's nervous system attack his-" she added sharply. "And I gave him something for the pain." She could still see they way he'd grit his teeth, eyes shut tight at the sound of the opening door when she'd found him in their room. She still remembered how scared he'd been that something was wrong, leading him down to see a doctor, the way he needed to lean on her because the lights made it hurt so much. They'd gotten the results immediately, he was fine, but it tore at her, seeing him suffer like that, and even though she had been nearly certain he was alright, it had scared her too. "I thought it would be best if I did this on my own, I thought you might be able to persuade him into staying."

"Fitz is a loyal man," Coulson agreed.

She allowed herself the smallest of smiles. "And I love him for it, but I also need to ensure we get the time we need to recover."

Her leader didn't seem surprised by this easy declaration of her affections. Maybe he was too tied up in their argument, or maybe he'd known for so long that it hadn't seemed like news when she finally said it.

He sighed. "You're serious about leaving." It wasn't a question and she didn't feel any need to provide an answer. "I can give you two months."

Jemma shook her head. "Three."

His eyebrows rose, unimpressed, but after a few seconds he nodded. "Three months," he agreed reluctantly. "But then you need to come back. I'm not wrong about needing you two."

"I know," she said flatly. "We'll be back."

She was halfway out the door when he spoke again. "I really am sorry."

Turning to face him one last time, she gave him a tight smile. "I know you are." ' _I just wish you also regretted it.'_

/-/-/

Fitz was still in bed when she returned to their room, groggy but looking better. She didn't risk turning on a light but he gave her a sideways smile from where his head rested on his pillow and he didn't flinch away from the light that spilled in from the hall.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, smiling back fondly as she took as seat on the bed next to him. She rested her hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb against the fabric of his shirt. "Do you need anything?"

His eyes were still glossy but she saw his smile widen. He took her hand, cradling it against his chest. "Just you."

She was more than happy to comply, shifting to her body to lie down next to him. It wasn't uncomfortable to lie on her good side anymore and it felt good to be able to rest in a position other than on her back.

He sighed, content, before squirming closer. "I think we should make a hoverboard," he said dazedly.

"What?" she chuckled. Poor thing was still half asleep, and under the influence of the pain medication.

"You're right," he mumbled. "Two hoverboards, it's only fair. One for each of us. And slow melting ice cream, so our hands don't get sticky while we eat it."

"On our hoverboards?" she mused.

He frowned. "You can't eat ice cream on a hoverboard."

She kissed his forehead, smiling. "Go back to sleep."

"OK." He nodded obediently, shutting his eyes and after about a minute his breathing evened out.

She watched him, wondering if she should get up, change out of her day clothes and brush her teeth. It was so wonderful just laying there though, warm and at peace beside the man she loved. She didn't really want to move even if she would be right back.

At last she mustered up the willpower to get up and prepare herself for bed but before she did she shuffled forward to lay one more kiss between his eyes.

"I love you," she whispered. It felt good, to finally be able to say it, to say it and not be afraid of it anymore. It was the first time she truly felt that it was alright for her to keep him, that she could keep him forever if she wanted to.

And she did want to. Very much so. And as Fitz drifted back to sleep, those three tender words his final snippet of the conscious world, he knew it too.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to notapepper for betaing this chapter :D 
> 
> Also thanks to agIO3 for letting me bounce a few ideas about it off you. 
> 
> There's still a short epilogue left after this :D


	12. Epilogue

It was cloudy, as they walked up the cobblestone pathway, but the clouds were light and the weather station had announced no chance of rain.

"You really aren't just doing this for me?" Jemma asked, giving Fitz's hand a slight squeeze as they made their way towards the cottage. It was beautiful, a patchwork of grey and grey-red stone with a shingled roof and four large windows framing a red wooden door. Vines grew up the side and a garden overflowed out of the beds at its base. "You want this."

He turned to her and his eyes were glowing with affection. "I want this Jemma."

She smiled, turning her attention back to the cottage. "It's lovely, isn't it?"

Fitz craned his neck, studying it critically. "Yeah, but it could use a bit of patching up. You know I'm very good with my hands. It wouldn't be too difficult," he added, bragging a little for what she was sure was her benefit. It was sweet, even if she _did_ already know very well how good he was with his hands. "A few adjustments here and there-"

"We could set up a lab in the basement-" she suggested enthusiastically.

"And a workshop in the garage-" he added, grinning.

"Oh and a swing in the garden-" she decided.

"We'll need to upgrade the security of course-"

"Especially around the nursery."

The words were out before she'd had a chance to check herself and they blinked at each other, surprised.

"A… a nursery?" he asked. They'd both stopped walking and he was staring at her with a terrifyingly unreadable expression.

"I… I mean if we _have_ a nursery," she fumbled, cheeks flushing. "If… that is if you'd like one of course…"

' _What is the matter with you? Springing something like this on poor Fitz out of nowhere!'_ She scolded herself. She should have _at least_ prepared what she wanted to say, have a few pros and cons ready, find a moment when they had time to talk, not when they were meeting with the real estate agent in less than five minutes. She'd been so wrapped up in her excitement, and she'd been thinking about it often enough recently, that it had simply slipped out. She wanted to kick herself. ' _This is NOT how you're supposed to ask your boyfriend if he'd like to have children with you!'_

His mouth twitched, then to her relief a wide smile spread across his face, his eyes dancing with joy. "It is. It… yes. Not now but-"

"Oh no, not right now," she clarified quickly.

"But someday," he finished. "Yeah I would."

"You would?" Her voice was a high whisper.

He leaned forward, lifting her chin before planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "I'd love to raise a few little monkeys with you," he said fondly.

She snorted, half amused half exasperated. "Fitz you are not calling our children _monkeys_."

His smile only widened. "We'll see."

"We're not," she insisted, though she smiled back, pulling at his hand to resume their walk.

"Oh yeah, I suppose we're only going to call them by their proper names," he complained. "Welcome to the world my little Henrietta."

"Henrietta?" It was almost as bad as monkey.

"It was my grandmother's name!" he defended.

"We'll need to discuss this when we have more time," she suggested. "Put together a comprehensive system of ranking. And we can exclude _monkey_ right now."

"I wasn't going to _name_ any of them monkey!" he protested.

"Not if you were planning on me carrying them," she teased. She pulled up his hand, kissing his fingers. "I think you're going to make a wonderful father someday," she told him, her heart swelling at the thought of him holding their newborn child, so carefully in his arms. Of him reading her stories and chasing her around the yard. Of him spoiling her with affection and loving her wherever life took her. Unconditional and pure, like the love they already shared. And, yes, calling her monkey when he thought no one else was around to hear.

"And you'll be a wonderful mother," he answered. "But first we should probably decide if we want _this_ cottage or not."

"You still think it's sensible to buy it before we're ready to live in it?" she asked. "What if something happens-"

"It won't," he promised firmly, rubbing his thumb across the tops of her fingers.

Doubt prickled in her chest. "How can you know that?"

He shot her a knowing smile. "Because we're buying a cottage. And we're going to have two dogs and a swing in the yard and a lab in the basement and you are going to be an incredible mother to our children who _won't_ be named monkey."

Jemma wasn't entirely sure if she believed him, their world would continue to throw them into danger, but she also knew that she'd never stop fighting for what he was promising. And maybe that was the point of this promise after all, something to fight for, a tangible reminder of their promise to each other, to be together for the rest of their lives.

She smiled back, glad her hand was securely in his, and together they took their next steps towards their future.

/-/-/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to notapepper for betaing this story! 
> 
> And for Aretsuna and agI03 for letting me talk them to death about it :P 
> 
> So what do YOU think they will name their kids? Not Henrietta (Fringe reference btw :P) or Monkey right?


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